


The Winner Case Files

by orphan_account



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Demon Summoning, Demons, Depictions of Death, Ghosthunting, Innuendo, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Morbid humour, Necromancy, Paranormal, Paranormal Investigators, References To Pedophilia, References to Drug Use, References to Dubious Activities, References to kidnapping, References to pretty much anything else you can think of, References to sexual acts, Religious Blasphemy, Spirits, Spirits (alcohol), Suggestions of incest, Vivid descriptions of death, Yes-I-Went-There warnings, ghost - Freeform, mindfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 96,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since Duo's been involved with the occult. But when his boss hires a team of paranormal investigators to solve a problem they've been having, he finds himself diving headfirst into a life he'd hoped to leave behind. More and more, it looks like someone's out to repeat a mistake best left in the past... or, to be more direct, Duo's past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Case 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luvsanime02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Duo runs over someone in his car, and ends up with a temp-job.

“You’re shittin’ me.”

I stare down my boss, the man’s body curling in on himself - _cringing_ \- against the blankness of my eyes. His voice catches, stumbles, as he tries to explain himself; excuse his behaviour.

“I- I- really believe this is th- the b-best option...” he counters, in his reedy, weak, _pathetic_ voice. If the man had anything worse than his taste in clothes, it was his self-confidence. Like I said, _pathetic_.

“But ghost hunters? For real? Are you that delusional?” I persist, feeling a small surge of joy fill me as the man flinches. Really, how did this guy ever manage to become my boss? I ignore the little whisper of thought that answers the question, instead continuing to verbally tear the man to pieces.

“The flickering and strange lights can be easily explained by the fact that the wiring in this building is so bad, I wouldn’t be surprised to turn the lights on one morning and set the fuckin’ place on fire. Suzie’s injuries are because the damn girl can’t even walk a straigh’ line, and the ‘ghostly figure’ is Suzie’s drugs wearin’ off,” I spit, exaggeratingly counting each ‘valid claim’ off on my fingers.

The man puffs up, trying to put on a bravado I know he really doesn’t feel. “I would rather trust the word of a _professional_ than the beliefs of a criminal,” he starts, but a cough interrupts the (harsh) retort I was about to give back. My boss flushes, straightening his facial features into what he assumes is ‘inviting and friendly,’ and politely inquires if he could assist at the same time I boredly ask, “What the hell do you want?”

“Are you Mr. Eustace Harcrow?” the young man asks; he can’t be any older than I am, though that doesn’t mean much as I look him over. Looks are deceiving after all. I was ready to tell him ‘Do I _look_ like a Eustace?’ when my boss replies to the man.

“Yes, that is me. Are you Mr. Yuy?”

I restrain myself (with great effort) to not look at my boss in knee-jerk startlement. I had forgotten what his _real_ name is, so used to just referring to him as the ‘Spineless piece of shit’ both in thought and in words. The way he blinks at his name makes me wonder if he started to think ‘spineless’ is his real name as well.

“I am. This is my assistant, Chang. Can you elaborate on the details of your situation?” ‘Mr. Yuy’ demands; there isn’t really another way to take his question. Spineless swallows, before trying to put his professional smile to use (which he sucks at), and I see ‘Chang’ wince. At least I’m not the only one who thinks it looks like Spineless is about to shit himself when he tries that.

“There have been strange things happening in the building,” Spineless starts, his voice falling into the ‘mysterious’ voice he also isn’t so good at using. “Lights flickering when you enter a room, some of them even just going out and a strange green-blue glow in other rooms, and the temperature drops randomly. One of my employees, a young girl named Susan, has had objects thrown at her without a source as well as seen an apparition while on the night shift.”

I roll my eyes, slumping against the back wall. Suzie might have thought a ghost was throwing shit at her, but then again she thinks that the gremlins are trying to eat her french toast and that Mexicans are going to kidnap her and sell all of her organs to aliens. Anything that ‘young girl’ claims is probably a result of sniffing too many Sharpie markers in the back room between fixes.

‘Mr. Yuy’ eyes me for a moment before looking back at my boss. “I will interview Ms. Susan myself--”

“Porter. Her name’s Susan Porter, and that would be a former Mrs. on top of that,” I interrupt jovially, winking at the sharp look ‘Mr. Yuy’ shoots me for cutting him off.

“-- _Mrs. Porter_ later, along with you, Mr...?” Yuy (I can’t keep tacking that Mr. on to his name, he just isn’t... Mr.-y enough!) trails off, obviously wanting my name. I debate for a split-second on pretending to think about answering, or ignoring the prompt, but the guy looks like if I were to try that I might end up in tomorrow’s obituary section, so I give in without a fight.

“Duo Maxwell, and _please_ leave off the Mr., or I might have to remove something from _you_ ,” I add with a wink, and only get a frown in return. Wow, tough crowd...

“ _Mr._ Maxwell will be interviewed first as he is currently available.” I grimace at the emphasized prefix, letting out a gusty sigh and letting my body slouch.

“Alright then, just be gentle, it’s my first time,” I tease, and I hear Chang choke. Good, at least I got _some_ reaction!

“Duo, please behave yourself and be a _positive_ example of our store,” Spineless asks, but it sounds more like a plead. I raise my eyebrow, as if to imply ‘and _you_ are?’ The flush that spreads down his neck shows he got my message loud and clear. Yuy clears his throat, and I look over at him again, smiling brightly.

“Here, there’s a lounge in the back we can chat at. Don’t want any customers,” I take the time to exaggeratingly look around the empty storefront, “to get a bad impression!”

* * *

 

I sip at my can, my legs crossed under me on the cushiony chair. I love this chair, having bought and brought it to the store myself. As much as I hate working here, and hate working for Spineless, I spend most of my time here, even days at a time. I can’t help it, it’s part of the job and I really don’t have the option to tell Spineless to go fuck himself. Yuy is ignoring the drink in front of him while Chang sips at a cup of water, eyeing the contents as if they’re laced with arsenic. I hold back the temptation to tell him he’s not paranoid, but decide I’ve pushed his buttons enough for tonight.

“Okay, shoot. What’cha wanna know?”

“Can you share your experiences with this haunting?”

I sigh, leaning back in my chair and letting my disbelief show.

“I honestly don’t believe that this piece of shit is haunted. Each and every so-called ‘paranormal’ event can easily be explained away,” I explain, and I see Yuy scribble on his little yellow pad.

“So the flickering lights and strange glow?”

“The flickering lights are easy ‘nuff to explain away; wiring. This piece of shit’s so... well... shitty that it’s not even close to being within code. Any inspector would shut the place down upon steppin’ in the door. The glowing... well, let’s put it this way. It’s merchandise that can’t exactly be placed in the storefront, or some of Suzie’s personal stash.”

Chang’s raised brow is answered by my own knowing one, and he looks away in disgust. I shrug, shifting in my seat. It’s not like I _enjoy_ my job, I just can’t get any legit work here. I do what I can.

“I’m guessing ‘Suzie’ is Susan Porter?” Yuy clarifies. I nod, sighing.

“Psycho bitch in all her glory.” Yuy snorts, scribbling down more notes.

“I’m guessing from having a ‘personal stash’ that you don’t believe her claims of being attacked,” Yuy guesses, and I nod cheerfully.

“Yup! She’s a crackpot, and I’m putting it nicely. She has bruises, that’s for sure, but it wasn’t no ghost that gave ‘em to her. She still thinks that her organs are desired by aliens.”

“Foreigners?” Chang asks, puzzled. I snicker, shaking my head.

“Of the little green variety. Not sure where they hail from, but it ain’t this planet.”

“So you’re saying that nothing unnatural is occurring, from what you’ve witnessed.”

“Sorry to put a damper on your... job,” I say the word with as little sarcasm as I can manage (and the dick, Chang, still gives me a look), “but nothing’s happening around here that a good electrician couldn’t make right. And a rehab clinic.”

“Thank you for your perspective. I’m sure you can understand we’d still like to have a look around,” Yuy says, closing his notepad and placing it in his pocket. I nod, standing up.

“I’ll give ya the tour, if you can keep your traps shut.” I give them both hard looks, making sure they understand my meaning. _Don’t go blabbin’ to the cops, and I’ll let you look around._

I get understanding nods from both of them, and I grin. “Okay then, five-star quality tour from yours truly comin’ right up!” I toss my now-empty can into the trash, hearing the metal knock against glass. Chang drops his still-full cup of water into the bin as we pass by it into the hall. I take a deep breath before letting my boss know what we’re doing.

“Hey you spineless piece of shit! I’m showin’ these guys ‘round to look fer tha’ ‘ghost’ of yours!” I hear one of the guys behind me take a sharp breath, but I pretend I haven’t just insulted my employer in front of them. Instead, I just keep walking.

“Okay, these are our storage rooms. Suzie claims she saw the ghost in the second one on the right,” I tell them, gesturing to the cold metal door. I pull out my keycard, sticking it into the slot under the handle and opening it for them to look in. I leave it open as I move across the hall, opening the door directly opposite of the one the two ‘ghost hunters’ are examining.

“This is the one where Suzie was attacked.” I lean against the outside of the room, not having any intense desire to join them in the holding cells. While right now they only hold drugs and other questionable merchandise, they _have_ seen their share of human beings as well. I’m not too excited to become one of them.

“Do you need anything else, or can I go show my boss how to operate the store?” I ask them, already hearing the faint muffles of Spineless getting overwhelmed. I get an absent nod, and I quickly move towards the front of the store.

“--been waiting for two weeks, Spineless, I just want--” I cut into the argument, knowing the voice speaking.

“Howie! My good man, what brings you out to our little corner of Purgatory?” The dark look leaves the face of the elderly man, a bright grin forming quickly in its wake.

“Duo! An’ here I was thinkin’ you finally went and made somethin’ of yourself! Still hanging around this piece of shit?” he asks me, and I know he isn’t referring to the store in that last question. I grin, shaking my head sadly.

“No, I’m still here, sadly ‘nuff. Workin’ with a couple guys in the back right now, or I’da been here to tell ya why the goods aren’t here yet. The piece of shit here’s clueless as to everythin’, so he didn’t know.”

We continue talking over Spineless’ head, the man turning redder and redder as the insults grow worse. Finally, Howie sighs, shrugging his shoulders roughly as he sticks his hands in his pockets.

“Well, you can’t help the border patrols, so I’ll let you off the hook. That, and you’re a good kid. Get the fuck outta the business and I won’t have ta beat the tar outta you.”

“I’m tryin’ buddy, believe me,” I assure him, handing over two grand from the safe. “Though you’re just bein’ a hypocrite.”

“I’m no kid though,” he shoots back, and I just grin brightly. He snorts, shoving my shoulder.

“Well, gotta run. Talk to ya later.”

I wave, immediately moving to rejoin the two ‘ghost hunters’ in the back room. I completely ignore my spinless shithead of a boss, who I think is trying to talk to me, as I lean on the outside wall of the room they are inspecting. A strange meter is in one of their hands, completely unmoving.

“Anything spooky show up yet?” I ask sarcastically, causing Chang to jump and scowl at me. Yuy shakes his head, pocketing the meter. How deep are the guy’s pockets?

“Negative readings for any paranormal activity. That could be caused by either lack of a paranormal presence or that it is hiding from strangers inside of its territory.”

“Oh, so now it’s _shy_ ,” I drawl, letting my head fall against the wall. Seriously, I just want the two dudes out of my work area. Having strangers snooping in _my_ territory is starting to piss me off, not cause any shy feelings.

“It’s a common occurrence, a spectral presence observing newcomers for signs of threat. Some are aware if they ‘fail’ to appear the strangers will leave. Other cases it picks up drastically, their curiosity causing paranormal activity to increase sharply.”

“Oh. So pretty much anything could happen,” I snort, rolling my shoulders. “Could you just hurry up so I can go home?”

“I would like to place a camera to observe any activities that might occur with our lack of presence,” Yuy says, seeming to ignore my question-slash-demand. I frown at the thought of anyone taping _anything_ inside my store.

“Look buddy, I can’t just let--”

“Mr. Harcrow gladly complied with this necessity when he arranged for us to come investigate,” he interrupts, and the familiar impulse to brutally murder my ‘esteemed employer’ rears its head.

That. Spinless. Useless. Piece of shit. Dick!

“Fine!” I snap, turning my back dismissively. “Just hurry it up. I ain’t got all night, yanno.”

Nothing more is said as they run a wire into both storerooms, setting up two small cameras in each room as well as in the hallway. When they finish, I lock back up the rooms, cautious of the cords.

“Okay, now get the hell out so I can finish locking up.”

* * *

 

I seriously didn’t plan this. While it had been a thought that had crossed my mind, I didn’t deliberately go out of my way to follow _through_ with the thought. That’s probably why I drag him into the passenger seat and drive him to the hospital after hitting him with the front end of my car.

The hospital staff are very attentive to him when I drag him into the waiting room. I have never seen _anyone_ move so fast as the portly woman who laid eyes on the man in my arms. They start shouting things to each other in jargon I’m unfamiliar with; the questions they direct my way are easy enough to understand, though much harder to answer.

“Yes, I hit him.”

“I didn’t seen him!”

“I don’t know where he lives.”

“I’ve met him before, yes.”

“I only know him as Chang.”

They say he isn’t too seriously injured, that I was going slow enough when I impacted that it is mostly superficial and bruising. A couple weeks and he’ll be right as rain. When he regains consciousness, he’ll be allowed to leave after a short observation.

I‘m not allowed to leave yet though.

The questions the cops ask are much harder to answer.

“I didn’t mean to hit him.”

“No, I don’t want him dead.”

“Yes, I have a license.”

“I was a bit more occupied in gettin’ the guy here than rememberin’ where I left it, okay?”

“Are you trying to say I tried to kill him?”

“Do _you_ have any proof?”

“I’d like to see _your_ ID, buddy, I don’t believe you’re really a cop.”

“Go ahead, frisk me. You’d like it.”

“No, that ain’t a knife, buddy.”

I’m put into holding for the night, but I know a word placed in the right ear will have me out by morning. It isn’t my first time I’ve been held overnight, and most likely it isn’t  going to be my last; I have a hard time holding my tongue when being interrogated.

Sure enough, Howie is chatting with the young female guard I harassed all night when I walk into the front lobby. Giving me a wink, he exclaims, “There’s my favourite nephew, once again walking to freedom!”

“Hello Uncle Howard,” I sigh, slumping. God, he’s giving the ‘My Poor Misguided Nephew’ spiel again. I honestly prefer his ‘My Horrible Delinquent Godson’ act more; that one leaves me looking less like a catholic-boy-fallen-from-grace and more like a catholic-boy-who-never-gave-a-shit.

“Come on Jonathan, let’s get you back to your mother, she’s worried _sick_ about you!” Howie states (loudly and clearly for everyone to hear) boldly, and I just nod.

“Yes Uncle Howard.”

* * *

 

Howard drops me off in front of my apartment, handing over the keys to my car. He was silent during the drive back to my place, but as I move to get out of the car, his sharp voice stops me in mid-movement.

“There’s only so many more times I’ll be able to pull yer ass outta tha’ fire, kid. You need to get _out_ of here.”

“Easier said than done,” I remind him, letting the bitterness of that statement show full force. “You think I like working for that piece of shit, and living in _this_ place?” I gesture to the condemned building, a habitat for those on the shady side of legal; the only place people like _me_ are allowed.

“I told you, I can get papers made that show--”

“And then what? Go work in a job with credentials I don’t have? Go to school? I can have all the papers I want made, it won’t take the place of experience. I haven’ got no education, no name, no life. Papers ain’t gonna change that.”

“It would still get your ass out of this shit hole and into a place you could actually become someone.”

“I _was_ someone until Solo died,” I remind him, and the conversation dies abruptly. Solo’s a subject no one’s allowed to talk about.

I leave his car, slamming his door in my ire. I had managed two days without having Solo pop into existence, and I know that the twelve-pack in the fridge isn’t going to make it to the weekend.

* * *

 

“You ran over my assistant,” Yuy says as I walk through the door to work. I pause, blinking tiredly at him.

“Wha?” I mumble, trying to think of what he’s talking about. It’s hard to think right now, the eight bottles on the floor next to my bed giving away the reason to my condition. Yuy sighs, coming over to stand in front of me. His hands grip my shoulders tightly, his face moving _very_ close to mine. The inane thought to lick his nose surfaces, and a giggle escapes my throat.

“You. Ran. Over. Wufei.”

“Whozzat?” I ask dumbly, looking around. Seeing no one, I look back at Yuy. “Where’s your buddy dude?”

“In the hospital, where he went after you _ran him over_.”

“Oh, why’d I do that?” I ask him, and the floor pops up out of the ground to smack my face. It only does that after Yuy’s fist does first though, so it must be trying to fit in.

“That’s a good question, isn’t it? Now get your ass off the floor and grab my bag. You’re working for _me_ tonight.”

“Bu’ Spineless can’ runa reg’st’r...” I complain, and Yuy snorts.

“He’ll manage. Come on.” I push up off the ground, standing wobbly. I manage to catch my balance before trying for round two with the concrete floor, and grab the black bag Yuy had pointed out while I was still wrestling the ground. I stumble after the man, who is walking at a very brisk pace.

“Slow down, buddy, where’s the fire?”

“I’m not in the mood for you. Shut up and remove the tapes from each camera.”

I mumble some crude remarks under my breath, though I’m sure the asshole hears each one; I’m not trying very hard to keep it that quiet. After removing the tapes, I hand them over to the bastard with a snarky, “Anything else, my lord?”

“Take down the cameras _carefully_ then take them to the break room we interviewed you in. After that, call in your coworker Susan Porter and have her here for her interview at 22:45 this evening. After _that_ , lie down until you sober up enough to work again.”

“Yessir,” I mumble sarcastically, but all Yuy does is storm out of the storeroom, and all I do is start taking apart the cameras. Yuy might be an asshole, but he isn’t a spineless dick I can push around either. I prefer his way of working, honestly.

* * *

 

“Mrs. Porter, can you share your experiences during the events that have taken place in the storage rooms?” Yuy asks, in a gentle tone I can’t picture him using, despite being right here to see it. Suzie’s shaking, and I know it ain’t from fear. She must not have had her ten o’clock hit before coming in.

“I- I was movin’ some- some stu-stuff from tha’ back t-to the fr-fr-front... a-and _it_ started throwin’ the st-stuff at me!”

“Did you see anyone or anything during this event?” Yuy calmly continues, either not finding her completely delusional or just _much_ better at hiding it than I am; I know my face is twisting already.

“N-no. I-I was duckin’, ain’ lookin’ for it!”

“Okay, that is fine. But you did see a specter the following night in the room across the one you were attacked in, correct?”

“Y-yeah... I- th-thought it was one of ‘em Mexi’s... b-b-but they ain’ see-through!”

I catch a glimpse of confusion in Yuy’s eyes, but he continues as if Suzie is making perfect sense.

“Can you describe the specter? Appearance, behavior, any words or gestures?”

“It... just stared. Just stood there... covered in blood...” Suzie whispers, her voice steadier than it’s ever been. Even in my still slightly-drunken state, I pay close attention. She never mentioned this before during her hysteria.

“It didn’t say anything.”

“It... it only asked me why... I don’t know what it wanted to know...”

“Was it a male or female?”

“A- a boy... a little boy...”

I close my eyes, biting my cheek. And here I thought some little waif got into the store last week and was just trying to lift something. Maybe it wasn’t so simple.

“Do you have anything to add, Mr. Maxwell?” Yuy’s voice cuts into my thoughts, and I glance up, startled.

“I, I don’t know,” I admit warily. “I saw a little boy in the store last week, but he wasn’t covered in blood, an’ he sure wasn’t asking me why.”

“Interesting,” Yuy mutters, scribbling once more on the pad. Suzie is crying now, her eyeliner having run down to the corners of her brightly-painted lips. I sit next to her, placing a comforting arm around her thin shoulders.

“Don’ worry Suzie, this guy’ll make it go ‘way an’ things can go back to norm’ ‘round here, ‘kay?” I try to comfort her, failing horribly as she just sobs harder. I know it’s harder for her to handle, having given birth to four children and losing all of them to disease.

What do we know about normal anyways? I shove the bitter thought aside, trying instead to plaster a smile on my face as I look once more at Yuy.

“So, now what ‘boss?’” I ask, and he gestures to the old, piece-of-shit computer in the corner.

“I want you to look over the recordings from last night, see if anything outside of the range of normal shows up. I also want you to organize the case notes, sorting them by incident, time, date, and witness. As there are only three of you, that shouldn’t take too long. Take any notes that could possibly be significant or relevant, and label them accordingly. After that I will have more instructions, and most likely will conduct another interview with you in regards to the small child you saw.”

“Right on it,” I yawn, standing and grabbing my bag. Yuy hands me a small tape player, a USB port letting me plug it into the computer. Luckily computers aren’t as foreign to me as they are to Suzie and Spineless, so it doesn’t take me much time to start watching the tapes.

They consist mainly of long periods of nothing. Evidence of rodents do appear, making me pump my fist in victory; I just won an extra twenty bucks from Spineless, who’s been trying to tell me that we don’t have any rats in the building.

It takes over four hours of watching the tapes before I notice something. It first looks like just a shimmer of moonlight, but the knowledge of that room lacking windows has me rewinding. Now I’m watching a small hand wave in front of the lense, only a half-second frame of movement capturing the evidence. I slow the tape down, quickly writing down the frame information so that Yuy can watch it himself.

_0320 hours, frames 1154-1158. Small hand across image._

The next couple minutes on tape pass without another sight, but on frame 1,188 a small, innocent, _see-through_ face peeks into the camera. It would have been innocent, even natural, if the child wasn’t transparent. I can imagine myself peeking into a camera I came across in the same way this kid is. I watch numbly as the child moves around the room, his face turning towards the lense regularly. _Curiously_. _Demandingly._

_0322 hours, frames 1188-1267_. _Male child moving around room. Transparent, age range between 4 years to 7 years (malnourished)._

The rest of the tape is blank, at least when it comes to the kid. The storeroom remains empty until I see Spineless coming in to grab a box. Regular business is recorded after that.

The other tapes show small glimpses of the kid. Nothing as significant as the several minutes the kid’s wandering inside the storeroom, but showing that the kid did indeed travel between the two rooms through the hallway.

“Anything?” Yuy asks from behind me. I don’t look up from the pile I’m sorting, instead gesturing to the paper I wrote the information on.

“Confirmed existence of a young boy. We’re haunted,” I mutter, sliding almost-illegible notes into the folder I made for Suzie. I wrote several pages of background information on her, or what I know of her at least, so that Yuy can reference that while working on the case. Hey, the guy’s an ass, but he’s doing rather good work.

And I _did_ run over his usual helper, so I shouldn’t slack off or do it half-assed, you know?

“Good job,” Yuy tells me, picking up the folder I have labeled ‘young boy.’ I took advantage of the office printer and had printed off still-frames of each glimpse the boy gave us; the best ones I found of him becoming immortalized in cheap, stolen ink.

Is this the boy you thought was a thief?” he asks me, and I nod vaguely.

“He was much more solid than he is here,” I confirm, setting the now-complete file of Suzie’s aside and starting on Spineless’. His is going to be relatively empty, because the dick doesn’t spend much time in the store to begin with.

“He must be more comfortable with you,” Yuy suggests, and I finally look up at him.

“Why?”

“You wrote here you’ve seen him seven times, each time he appeared in different clothing and was solid. Mrs. Porter saw him once, covered in blood, and highly transparent. He puts higher effort into his appearance for you.”

I digest that tidbit, turning the thought around in my head. I’m not the most approachable guy; my rough personality and biting tongue drive most people away. I _am_ gentler with children, but not by much (and I don’t see much of them anyways).

“I can’t tell you why,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve never seen the kid before, don’t recognize him from anywhere, and never done anything where he’d like _me_ more than anyone else.”

“That’s something we will investigate.”

“There might be something on recording,” I suggest, pointing at the monitor of the computer. “I couldn’t find the audio files, so I left that for you.”

“Yes, they are confusing; which is why I leave it to Chang to decode the tapes,” Yuy mumbles, clicking rapidly on the mouse. Files and programs flash across the screen quicker than I’m able to make out, and soon I can hear the crackle of static. I jump slightly as I hear my own voice come through the shitty speakers.

_“Anything spooky show up yet?”_

The tape is silent after the short conversation that had followed my question, at least until it hit two in the morning.

Shuffling noises sound through the speakers, and rats immediately jump to mind. The sounds aren’t consistent though, pausing and restarting. Soon, a tiny, thin voice is humming a familiar tune.

_“...and when the Lord comes down to offer rest, unto the weary and the broken,”_ I whisper, in time with the child’s humming. Yuy glances over at me, but stays silent as the noise fades out. I jot down the occurrence, changing the tape.

The child’s voice once again is heard. This time, actually talking.

“Mr. Duo, are you in there?” the boy asks, his high-pitched voice echoing slightly as he stares into the camera. After a moment, he huffs, moving away from the lense and walking around the room.

“Mr. Duo’s looking for this,” the little voice says, as if talking to someone that we can’t see. He stops by a box, glancing back at the screen. “When you watch me later, remember it’s right here. You’re so silly, Mr. Duo.”

My throat tightens, my fists clenching to hide the shaking.

_I fucking have a stalker... a_ deadchild _stalker!_

“Mr. Duo, I’m still waiting. Tell Mommy I’m sorry, okay?”

There is no noise after that. Soon I turn off the speakers, slumping into my seat.

“Who is this child?” Yuy questions, but I don’t think he’s talking to me.

“I have a one-in-four chance of guessing right, and I don’t like any of them,” I mumble. I pull open Suzie’s file, removing four sheets of paper and handing them to the ghost hunter. He looks quickly over the pages, before sharply fixing me with that cold blue stare I’m becoming much-too-familiar with.

“You’re suggesting one of her children is trying to talk to her?”

“That’s the only thing I can think of. I just don’t know why they want _me_ to do it, instead of just telling _her._ ”

“I have some theories about that, which I’ll follow up on shortly. I have a different task for you.”

* * *

 

As I sit in the storeroom, leaning against a box and staring at the door, I make a mental note to shove a Sharpie down Yuy’s throat next time he tells me he has ‘a task’ for me to do. As the chill seeps into my ass, freezing me even more than the cold air, I up the Sharpie to an entire _box_ of them in Yuy’s ass as well.

Bait. I do _not_ do _bait._ I don’t _play_ bait.

Yet I’m still sitting here on the floor, waiting for a little midget stalker ghost to make an appearance.

“Mr. Duo?”

I look up from where I am trying to melt the steel floor, and see the young boy. He’s wearing different clothes again, jean shorts and a bright red shirt. He smiles brightly as I meet his light blue eyes, eyes that I’m more comfortable seeing on his mother.

“Hi buddy, what’s your name?” I ask him, and he answers happily.

“I’m Shawn!”

“What are you doing here, kiddo? Why aren’t you at home?”

“I can’t go home. Mommy won’t let me.”

I frown, shifting my numb legs.

“Did she lock you out?” I continue questioning him calmly, trying to figure out if the kid knows he’s dead. So far, it doesn’t seem like it.

“No, but Mommy never talks to me. She just cries, screams, and takes her bad stuff. I don’t like being there.”

“So where have you been staying, Shawn?” I ask kindly, patting the ground next to me. He flops down on the ground, curling his legs up to his chest.

I’ve been staying at Mommy’s work,” he whispers, as if sharing a secret; which, thinking about it, he is because we know he’s here now. I push that thought aside, acting interested.

“Have you tried talking to your Mommy?”

“Yeah,” he pouts, letting his head drop, “but she just started screaming and crying again.”

“Shawn, why do you want me to talk to your mother?” I ask him, and his eyes water.

“Because I know you take care of Mommy. You go to our house and make sure she eats, and that she cleans herself in the bathroom. You try to make her stop taking the bad stuff, and you help her try to stay good. You let her cry and then put her in bed to sleep. Mommy would be really sick if you didn’t, so I want you to tell Mommy I’m sorry I can’t do what you can. I wish I can take care of Mommy, but I can’t.”

“Why can’t you, Shawn, what’s stopping you?” I ask, shoving every feeling this damn kid’s provoking away into a little corner of my mind; I’ll break down later, I have a job to finish right now.

“I... I think I’m dead, Mr. Duo. I can walk through walls, and when I pretend to be invisible people can’t see me! And... I don’t need to eat, or sleep, or go potty. Am I dead, Mr. Duo?”

“You are Shawn,” I whisper, reaching out to brush his bangs. My hand glides gently through him, his hair staying right where it is as my fingers pass through. “You were very sick, and you died. Your mommy was very sad when you died, and she doesn’t know how to feel happy again.”

“Oh. Tell Mommy I’m okay. I want Mommy to be better. Tell her! Tell her to be better, or I’ll be sad too.”

“Okay. I will. But you need to do something for me then,” I tell him seriously, and he nods back, listening intently. “I need you to find out how to move on, to go on to heaven. You can’t stay here, it’s not good for you. When people die, they need to go to heaven so that they can be happy.”

“I think the nice man will take me,” Shawn says with a smile. “I’ll tell him I want to go now.”

“You do that,” I whisper, “and I’ll tell your mom what you want her to do, okay?”

“Okay! Thank you, Mr. Duo! I knew I could count on you.”

* * *

 

“So he’s moved on,” Yuy concludes, snapping his notebook shut. I just stare blankly at the wall, trying to block out the sounds of Suzie’s cries beside me. Spineless is absent, not having bothered to turn up to the meeting.

“I don’t know what to do!” Suzie wails, and I glare at her.

“Honor his wishes! Stop the fuckin’ drugs, pull yourself together, and start fuckin’ living! _Your_ agony almost cost _him_ eternal happiness!”

Apparently my words don’t comfort her, as she reaches new heights in her screeching. I sigh bitterly, turning my glare back to the wall. Maybe if I try hard enough, it will light on fire... Just a bit harder...

“Duo!”

I snap my head over to look at Yuy, who’s fixing me with his own glare. I blink, tilting my head.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Here is your payment for your involvement in this investigation. For the amount of work you’ve covered, as well as the various degrees of difficulty in these tasks, the total amount comes to six-hundred-forty-five dollars.”

I whistle low, taking the envelope. Glancing over the front, my eyes pause at the scrawled name on the top left corner.

“Heero? Seriously, your name is _Heero_?”

I come to a sudden epiphany about how my measly glare at the wall would never have started a flame; Heero’s though, his is capable of igniting the whole fuckin’ block. I try to keep my eyes fixed on his much-too-blue ones, and I feel the smoke starting to rise from my burning flesh. I can almost trick myself into thinking I smell it as well, but I know that’s just Suzie’s attempt at brewing coffee, currently fermenting in the corner.

 There’s a reason I stick to canned soda here at work, after all.

* * *

 

“We’re changing lots,” the spineless bastard tells me, his voice fading in and out over the cheap telephone line that I wired to my apartment. I snort, rolling onto my back and staring at the stained ceiling.

“So the cops are sniffin’ too close again. Okay, how long will I have before the roof comes down on us?”

“You won’t have any time. You’re not coming.”

I sit up, anger flaring deep in my chest.

“What the fuck’ya mean I’m not coming?! You expectin’ me to stay here?!”

“You’re fired. You’re not helping, you’re not coming, you’re never to show your face in my building again. Are we clear?”

“Crystal. Just know, _Eustace Harcrow_ , that just because I can’t step foot into your thriving business, it doesn’t mean we won’t be seeing each other again. How’s the baby? Angie, isn’t it? She’s a beauty, certainly not _yours_ , not with that thick dark hair and that cute pert nose you always tell people she gets from her mother--”

_“You stay away from my house!”_ Spineless shouts down the line, and I give a dark laugh.

“See you soon, you spineless piece of trash!” I hear the line go dead, and I throw the phone at the wall in fury. It shatters into a rain of black plastic and metal, but I can’t be bothered to care, instead rolling onto my stomach and screaming into my pillow. That fucking _bastard_ \--

My thoughts are interrupted by a ringing noise. I roll off the bed, crouching low as I stare in disbelief at the phone’s remains. There’s no way in hell _that_ thing can be ringing...

It’s not. I see my pants, the pants I last wore the day Heero Yuy left my life, the pants that are vibrating near the pocket, a tiny blue square of light shining through the fabric.

“I... don’t own a cell,” I mutter, cautiously moving towards the possessed article of clothing. They _have_ to be possessed, because I don’t _own_ a damn cell--

To my immense disappointment, there aren’t any supernatural powers bestowed on my favourite pair of bluejeans. Instead, there is an actual cell phone in the pocket. A cell phone I never bought, and a cell phone I obviously don’t recognize. A cell phone that _won’t stop ringing._

Hesitantly, I accept the call, placing it against my ear. I don’t say a word, but whoever the fuck’s calling me doesn’t share that reluctance.

“You’re to be in my office tomorrow morning at zero-eight-hundred hours for work. I don’t accept tardiness. You’ll be briefed on your job duties upon arrival, which _will_ involve helping Chang move around the office. _Don’t_ show up drunk.”

The line goes dead, but a grin forms on my face.

“Got it, Heero. Tomorrow at eight...”

My neighbour bangs on her wall as I laugh, apparently not finding this to be as hilarious as I do. Guy’s a fuckin’ _psychic,_ I tell you!


	2. Case 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Duo learns how to handle office life, gets dragged out on his first real case, and wonders why he really wanted to go in the first place.

The satisfying sound of metal harshly rattling against itself rings in my ears as I slam the filing drawer shut, curses falling steadily from my lips.

“--expect to run a fuckin’ business, yet can’t even organize their own shit--”

“Quiet, some of us are trying to work,” Wufei calls from within his office, and my scowl grows more pronounced. Sure, the guy treats me like an ass because I ran him over, but _Jesus_ can the man hold a grudge! Just let bygones be bygones and all that jazz, right?

“Where the hell did you put the Necrology books?”

“On the shelf, under ‘Necrology!’ Try actually looking!” I call back, irritated. Seriously, how these guys managed before I got a hold of this mess eludes my mind. The first day on the job I thought they’d had a break-in, but it turns out that was how it normally looked. Not anymore, it doesn’t!

It took two months to make a dent in the chaos, but it was time well-spent; now I have a rather detailed system in place, which is making the rest of my filing much easier than the first week. Of course, now that I have everything put where it belongs and in a semblance of _order_ , Heero and Wufei can’t find anything.

I have no clue how they survived without me.

The little bell above the door jingles as a man steps into my domain (as I claim the front part of the office as). Giving him my million-watt smile, I ask him as politely as I am able to, “What do you want?”

A thin eyebrow rises, but the man merely places a slip of paper on my desk without uttering a word. I give him Look Number Seven, ‘Are You Serious?’ (as named by Wufei last week), just a single twitch of my left eyebrow up as I let my eyes fall into the ‘blank state’ (also named by Wufei).  It doesn’t have the same effect it does on Wufei, as the man doesn’t explode and start shouting obscenities at me. Instead, he gestures to the note, taking a seat on the (rather tacky) loveseat to the left of my desk.

I don’t have much of a choice other than picking up the note and reading the neatly-penned message. For being such a silent bastard, he sure covers all the bases. I stand from my desk, not bothering with letting the guy know where I’m going (something Wufei’s trying to pound into my skull with little success), and knock on the doorframe of Wufei’s office.

“Yo Wu-man, there’s a visitor here for you guys. I think he’s your type too,” I drawl, letting my voice easily fall into the teasing tone I often take with the short-tempered man. “Tall, silent, and very creepy. Right up your alley!”

“I swear to god Heero was drugged when he decided to hire _you_ ,” Wufei mutters, shoving me hard into the frame as he passes by. I rub my shoulder gingerly, hissing at the pain that blossoms under my fingers.

“No wonder you’re still single. So abusive! I’m filing for domestic abuse charges, you prick!”

“For the love of all that--!” A cold, sharp voice cuts right into Wufei’s rant, making both of us freeze in place.

“We have a customer, can you two stop squabbling and get to work?”

The flush that crosses Wufei’s cheeks is _so_ worth the reprimanding glare directed at us (mostly me, though) from Heero.  I grin cheekily at him, giving a sloppy salute that earns me getting a second dose of Angry Asian Yuy (and _I_ came up with that, not Wufei).

“Chang, go speak to our client. _You_ , get your ass over here.”

“Aye aye!”

“Of course.”

Wufei glares at me before moving to the seat the quiet man is sitting on. He had been watching our interaction, and I toss a wink his way before moving over to my new-ish boss.

“First impressions,” Heero asks me, and I shrug nonchalantly; more for anyone watching than thinking nothing of the man who is scribbling on a pad of paper.

“Creepy. I seriously was just ready to jump out of my skin. Actually,” I scratch at the flesh of my wrist, “my skin is still crawling...”

“Have you ever had a reaction like this with anyone else?” Heero asks me, his eyes still watching as Wufei hands the man a small business card; Heero and Wufei will be going on another case soon, it seems.

“Only one person. He died over ten years ago,” I reply, my nails scraping some of the skin away from my wrist. Heero grabs my hand, yanking it away from my freshly made wounds. He drops my hand as quickly as he grabbed it, moving to speak with Wufei. I silently watch them for several moments, before I glance down.

Great, another blood stain to work out of the rug.

* * *

 

I never threw away the cell phone Heero had snuck into my pocket almost three months ago. I instead have it hidden away in a drawer in my kitchen, for an emergency. So of course it rings when I least expect it to; whoever has the gall to call at two in the morning deserves my rather black mood.

“I swear to God that if this isn’t an emergency--”

“Have a travel bag packed for three days by zero-five-hundred hours and be in the office by that time. Don’t be late, don’t be drunk.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Hee--” The line goes dead, and I resist the (very strong) urge to chuck the small plastic device at the wall; it can only stand up to so much more of my temper before I become roomies with my neighbour. I snarl at the cursed electronic instead, letting it fall back into the knife drawer and slamming said drawer closed. Wood chips rain down on my bare feet before I can step away from the counter and head to the side of the room my bed is located. Grabbing a small duffle bag, I shove several pairs of socks into it. Having my most essential luggage, I follow with some pants and a couple shirts, absently tossing a toothbrush in as well. My hair brush isn’t as much of a concern, as I always have one either on me or in the office.

Does that sound conceited to you? Why don’t _you_ try having almost three feet of hair and not carry one around. Yeah, that’s _exactly_ what I thought.

“Okay, buddy, stop talking to yourself,” I mutter under my breath, suppressing the hysterical laughter bubbling in my chest. Living alone tends to get to me after long periods of time.

Of course, living _with_ someone is ten times worse.

It’s four-thirty when I decide I won’t be getting any sleep tonight. Grabbing my keys, I scrawl a short note and leave my little hidey-hole, locking the door behind me. I slide the note under my ‘landlord’s’ door before leaving the building though; don’t want the bitch to give my place away just ‘cause I won’t be showing up tonight.

I live a twenty-minute walk from Heero’s office building, but jogging gets me there within ten. The door’s still locked when I get there, so I jimmy it open and let myself in. You really think Heero or Wufei gave me a key?

“Stop it,” I remind myself aloud. Don’t want anyone thinking I’m crazy now, do I?

Makes me wonder how far off the mark they’d be if they did.

“Now I’m just being all depressing,” I scold the small plant in the corner as I pour my bottle of water into it. I had planned to drink it on the way over, but never got around to it. I’m sure Betty will appreciate it much more than I will.

“Isn’t that right, Betty? I shouldn’t get all depressed. I have a real job with someone who wouldn’t sell me on the Black Market if I fucked up. I should be happy!” I cheer, tossing the emptied bottle across the room into the trash. It bounces off the side of the can and onto the floor, mocking my great attempt at a three-pointer.

“Fucking piece of--”

“Talking to the plants again, Duo?”

I spin around, my braid smacking the unfortunate soul who snuck up on me. Wufei lets out a curse, a hand rubbing at his cheek. I grin sheepishly, rubbing at my wrist.

“Well, she gets lonely, and _you_ ignore her all the time. Worst boyfriend ever, I tell you.”

“I wasn’t aware I was in a relationship with the office foliage,” he snaps back, dropping a duffle bag onto the loveseat.

“Ignoring _and_ ignorant. How awful, isn’t it dear?” I moan dramatically, placing a hand over my heart and looking at the plant. It doesn’t answer me, instead just sitting there like it has been the entire time I’ve worked here.

“Oh fine, you two fit together perfectly. Both so rude to me!”

“Duo, glad to see you so... chipper this morning,” Heero greets, closing the office door behind him. I look over at the clock; five o’clock on the dot. Anal bastard.

“Hey boss-man! So what the fuck did you want me here so early for? Want me to keep the chair warm for your return?” I ask, unable to keep the sarcasm contained.

“I felt the need to have you join us on this case,” Heero replies, making me lose my train of thought.

_Wait... what?_

“Er... I thought I was here to help you guys remember what color your desks are...”

“While you have been most helpful in that process, your reaction to the gentleman who dropped off the request for our services has decided this for you. Plan on at least three days, if not longer.”

“Great,” I mutter, scratching at my wrist. A sharp look has me dropping my hand to my side. I stretch my fingers wide, giving him an innocent look.

_See, I’m behaving. Now stop staring at me._

He turns to Wufei, tossing a set of keys at him. Catching them, Wufei moves past Heero and out the door, leaving Heero and I alone in the (much too quiet) office.

“Our client is well-off, from old money and old blood. While I’m not saying to fake it, at least try to keep your... _personality_ toned down.”

“I understand. I don’t promise anything though,” I warn, and he gives a sharp nod before grabbing Wufei’s bag and leaving the office. I pick up my own bag, giving a wave to Betty before turning off the lights and leaving the building as well.

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe there’s a company car,” I repeat, dragging my fingers over the cool leather seat under my leg. Heero doesn’t respond to my (repetitive) statement, but I hear Wufei let out a huff of air. I wonder if he’s having problems breathing today, since he’s done that _quite_ a bit during our ride. And as it’s been almost six hours, he’s been doing it for a while.

“Duo, we heard your awe during the first hour. I think both of us understand your amazement,” Heero says blandly, eyes fixed on a point somewhere out the window he’s leaning against.

“But why do you have a company car? Do you _really_ need it, or it is just--”

“We have equipment we bring for our investigations, and it’s easier to have our own vehicle than purchasing a rental each time a case comes our way. Neither of us own a personal vehicle, so we share this one when not on an assignment,” Wufei snaps, his fingers tightly gripping the steering wheel. I can see the tendons straining under his skin.

“Dude, calm down before you get us in a wreck. Don’t you know angry drivers are the leading cause of auto accidents?”

“You should know. _You_ ran me over, remember?”

“Oh yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

“We have three more hours, can we all just arrive there alive?” Heero asks, and I snicker into my lap. Picking at my tattered shoes, I question Heero a bit on our ‘assignment.’

“So who’re the rich dicks we’re workin’ for this time?”

“The lady of the residency is Iria Winner, eldest daughter to the current head of the Winner family. She lives alone with only a couple servants and a maid. Here’s the information we have so far.”

Heero hands a file back over the seat, and I grab it, flipping open the folder and glancing over the black-and-white image briefly. Rather pretty for a spoiled bint.

“Haunting, attacks on the staff, messages on the wall, temperature drops, breaking of material objects, seems like what happened at Spineless’ place,” I mumble, flipping through the papers.

“No names on the reports. Did Tall-and-Creepy not provide them?” I ask, and Heero shakes his head.

“No, most of the background information I looked up personally. He provided bare details, as was his instruction by the head of the house.”

“And who is that? The Winner lady, her husband, or her brat?”

“None of those. The head of her home is actually her youngest and only brother, who resides in several of the Winner homes. I don’t have a picture of him, but there’s a bit of information on him behind Lady Winner’s profile. The lady Winner has never married, and has no children. Her brother stays there every other month to assist in caring for the home, before visiting his other siblings in their homes.”

“Huh. So a mysterious no-name sibling. Will he be present?”

“I am unsure. He could possibly be there, but I cannot say for certain. I was unable to find a schedule that was consistent with his movements.”

“...You know that sounds very stalkerish, right?”

“Shut up.”

I snicker again, closing the file. Placing it on the seat next to me, I stretch my legs the best I can in my cramped quarters.

Three more hours, then I can take a piss. Wufei’s too much of a dick to find a rest area.

* * *

 

I let out a low whistle as I get my first glimpse of the Winner’s house.  From Heero’s talk about ‘old money,’ I honestly expected something much larger and grander than the cottage-style house that we’re pulling up in front of. Sure, it’s _big_ , but nothing that a family of six couldn’t fill up.

“For old money, they’re rather modest,” I mumble under my breath, pushing open my door and climbing out of the car.

“There are servants’ quarters located behind the building; the house belongs to Lady Winner and her brother,” Heero points out, unlocking the trunk of the car. I frown, turning to look at him quizzically.

“Why do you get to call her Lady if you don’t bother to give her brother such a snazzy title?” I ask him, and for a rare moment I’m actually _serious_ , but he doesn’t answer me. Instead, he gives a low bow to the man who has just stepped outside the front doors.

Young. That’s the first words that pops to mind. Not young, as in a child, though he sure _looks_ childish; no, he just seems...

Too innocent.

I step back discreetly, examining the house more as the childish man greets Heero and Wufei.

I don’t care if he’s ignoring me. I’m ignoring him, and I’m just an accessory; Heero and Wufei are the ghost hunters, not me. I’m the fuckin’ secretary.

I rub at my wrist, feeling my skin crawl. My eyes lock on the corner of the house, where I can see Tall-and-Creepy walking a large dog. Great, _he’s_ going to be hanging around here too. Seems that I won’t be sleeping for a couple days.

“Lady Winner will meet you in the parlor in an hour’s time, if you wish to get yourselves established prior to meeting with her.”

“That will work,” Wufei agrees, and the young blond gives a bright smile. I flinch at how unnatural it looks on his face. I lift up a box labeled ‘CORDS: CAMERA’ and brush past the trio, my question aimed at no one in particular.

“So where the fuck am I taking this shit?”

The blond servant dude shows me to a room where Heero and Wufei will have their stuff set up. We’re all three sharing the room next to it to sleep in, since there’s nowhere close by to rent a room at. I drop my duffle on the bed closest to the wall before entering the adjoined bathroom for a long-awaited visit with the white throne.

Heero must have stopped in while I was cleaning myself up as both his and Wufei’s bags are on the other two beds. Since they both look identical (which, now that I think about it, they probably are), I don’t know who’s going to be my bed-neighbor. As long as they don’t snore or move a lot, I think it should be okay. I think. It better.

Peeking into the ‘base room’ I see Heero and Wufei hard at work setting up the shit we brought. I decide that I will be more of a hindrance than a help, so I decide to instead go and give myself a tour of the (overly) opulent house. The first two hallways price out at over four grand, and I keep trying to not tally the dollar amount both on the legal market or on the underground prices. I pride my restraint as I only stick my head into each room as I pass, noting the contents before leaving them in the same state I find them in.

I eventually stumble across the ‘parlor room,’ and the only reason I’m aware of this is because Heero, Wufei, the blond servant, Tall-and-Creepy, and the colorful version of the woman in the photo I saw on the way over are sitting inside of it. If they were talking before I stick my head in the door, I’m not sure, as they’re all now quietly looking my way.

“Er, ‘ello. I got lost, sorry ‘bout that.”

“Come on in, we’re just starting,” Heero says (i.e. demands) and I shuffle into the room, quietly closing the door behind me. I lean against the solid wood, folding my arms and giving a nod to Heero to continue whatever the hell he’s doing.

“So these occurrences only started within the last month,” Heero says, his pen hovering over a scribble of ink on his (damn annoying little) pad of paper.The woman (who must be ‘Lady Winner’) nods, her face a shade of pale that matches the ivory fabric of her wingback chair.

“Y-yes. It didn’t do m-much at first, merely wandered down hallways through the night and appearing briefly in a few rooms. Then m-my servant w-was attacked two weeks ago,” she says, her gentle voice trembling in sync with her hands. I watch as her hands grapple each other on her lap, perfectly cared for nails digging at the flesh. I can feel my own hand fingering my right wrist, but a brief, sharp look from Heero has me dropping them once again to my side. God damn observant bastard...

“And who is the servant that was attacked?”

“That would be me,” the blond man says, taking over the conversation.

“And do you have a name?” I ask snidely, a bit sick of this whole ‘cloak and dagger’ charade these rich assholes are trying to pull. The man merely smiles, taking my question in stride; either he’s overly polite or completely oblivious.

“I am Trowa Barton,” he says, but instead of looking at me as he answers, his gaze is directed on Heero. My boss jots the info down while Wufei shifts in his seat, giving me a dark look. All I give him in return is Look Number Two, ‘Am I Supposed to Care?’ which has him turning away from me.

“Can you describe your encounter with this ghost?”

Trowa gives a rather detailed story about how the ghost had shoved him down a flight of stairs. Which had been followed by a trip out a window, then a strangulation attempt. He shows us the bruises around his neck, the Winner chick glancing away the moment his collar is pulled down to reveal the blackened skin.

“This bruising is four days old now,” Trowa says, letting his collar hide his injury once more. The feeling of pins through my flesh diminishes at the same moment the darkened skin is out of sight, and I visibly relax. God, I want to just claw whatever’s down there _out_.

“Duo, would you go grab my travel case?” Heero’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and I look up at him. I can read the meaning in his eyes, the subtle suggestion and opening he’s giving me.

_Get the hell out of here before you make a scene._

“Roger,” I chirp, hauling ass out of the room.

The further away from the room I get, the less antsy I feel, and the less I feel like shredding my skin off with my bare teeth.

Whatever the fuck’s wrong with this house better be fixed quickly, or I’m going to go nuts.

* * *

 

“What the hell was that?” Wufei snaps at me, once Heero closes the door to our ‘room.’ I look up from where I’m gluing on letters, silently questioning the reason behind his anger at me. I can’t recall doing anything within the last hour that would have pissed him off.

“Actually, here’s a better question: What the hell is _wrong_ with you?” Wufei continues, throwing his arms up in the air. “You were mumbling to yourself while clawing your arm, totally spaced out in front of our clients. I have no clue why you’re even here, and you’re already fucking our case up!”

“Oh look, Fei-fei said a naughty,” I tease, watching Heero move from the corner of my vision. I bring my arm out as he sits beside me, with the first aid kit firmly in his iron grip. He rolls up my sleeve, and I hiss as the matted shirt peels away the partially-formed scabs on my skin. Though in comparison to the antiseptic now being rubbed into the open wounds, that was more of a love-bite.

“It was the bruising, you felt the same sensation the man caused in our office,” Heero concludes, and I find myself nodding.

“Felt like my skin was about to break out in hives,” I agree, sticking down another letter with my free hand, feeling the glue smear against my fingers from where it leaks out of the sides of the small square.

“What, can’t stand a little injury?” Wufei mocks, and I meet his eyes.

“No, I have no fuckin’ clue _what_ it is, it’s just fuckin’ annoying and it won’t _fuckin’ go away_.”

“Duo has a heightened sense to paranormal phenomena, it causes a physical sensation in his body.”

“Sixth sense?” Wufei questions, and Heero tilts his head.

“You could call it that. A bit more... advanced than the average extra sense.”

I feel a pressure lift from my chest as Heero doesn’t mention the times I’ve broken skin without ‘sensing’ anything weird; though the fucked-up sixth-sense theory explains a lot about Tall-and-Creepy and Trowa’s bruising. If the bruising is from a ghost, my ‘extra sensitive senses’ would pick it up. Tall-and-Creepy doesn’t make any sense though. I tell Heero that too.

“I will look into the reason he causes a reaction to your perception.”

“So why _am_ I here, anyways?” I ask Heero, leaning down as much as I can with my arm in his vice grip to blow on my finished paper.

“For the very reason you’re clawing your flesh off. To find us the source of this problem.”

“Wait... I’m your _radar_?!”

“I wonder... Is that a promotion or a _de_ motion?” Wufei muses aloud, and I snarl at him, swiping my free hand in his direction. He steps back out of my reach though, and Heero refuses to release me to let me after him, despite my great attempt in doing just that. I settle for scowling, drawing a finger across my throat while looking him in the eye.

He just rolls his dark brown eyes, the bastard.

“So what is _this_?” Wufei asks me, snatching my semi-dry paper from the bed. His jaw drops as he looks it over, setting it delicately back on the bed and eyeing me warily. I grin brightly, flourishing my paper to show Heero my masterpiece.

“I remember watching those old crime shows where they would make the ransom notes out of newspaper and magazine letter clippings. I wanted to see if it was as cool as it looked, and possibly slide it under the door of the dickwad I formerly worked for.”

I hear a puff of air from Heero, and I whip my head around to stare at him with wide eyes.

“Oh my Lord, it _can_ laugh!”

My own laughter turns into a long shriek of pain as my arm is twisted into an angle not intended to be used by healthy arms - let alone my arm in its current state.

Bastards. All of them!

* * *

 

“More to the left,” I say into the mic, releasing the button that allows Wufei to hear me from the ‘base room.’ The image on my monitor swivels, and I press the button again, tapping the mic twice before changing channels to Heero’s headset.

“All the cameras are set up, what next Boss?”

I can only hear static in the speakers for a couple moments before Heero’s bland voice replies, “I need blueprints for the property, including both the residential homes on the grounds. Also see if you can locate the original floor plan from when the house was first built, and any other altered plans from that point to the present.”

“Sure thing, no prob. That’ll be a cinch...” I mumble, clicking my mic off.

Great, now how the fuck to do that. I figure the best place to start is asking Iria, or as Heero insists on calling her, ‘Lady Winner.’

I quickly turn the mic back on, changing over to Wufei’s channel and letting him know I’m leaving the ‘base’ unmanned and he should haul ass back to make sure no one plays with his stuff. When I cut off his rather angry response, I wander around the halls again looking to see where the esteemed Lady is, or at least one of her ass-kissers.

It only takes ten minutes before I run into an ass-kisser. The blond one, Trowa, gives me a welcoming grin which I ignore in favour of getting my assignment done.

“Where’s her majesty at?” I can see a spasm of irritation and surprise flitter across Trowa’s face for a moment before it smooths out into Creepy-Friendly-Smile mode again.

“Lady Iria is in the sunroom right now, I will be glad to escort you there.” His words sound friendly, but if I’m reading the creep right, he’s just wanting to make sure I don’t take off with the family jewels.

I’ve already worked myself over _that_ temptation, thank you kindly!

Iria is sitting in a wicker chair, tastefully placed next to two potted rose bushes; which she is trimming flowers off of as I approach her.

“Hello m’lady,” I greet, giving a gracious bow (arm sweep included for free) and keeping my head faced to the floor. I feel my braid sliding over my shoulders and see it land on the floor in my vision.

“Hello. Duo, was it not?” Her voice is soft, even out of the company of my most sociable coworker and boss. I give a nod, straightening back up with a grin.

“That’s me! I have a couple things I must do, which your knowledge will assist me greatly.” I feel some brain cells dying as I pour out the verbal bullshit, the words much too delicate for my mouth. How do the rich-ass bastards manage it twenty-four-seven?

“What can I do for you?”

“I need to... acquire floor plans, blueprints, layouts, all that fun stuff of when the house was built, how it is now, and any that might exist from now to then.”

Silence meets my request, Iria thinking in the calmest manner I’ve ever seen. Even _Heero_ makes more noise then that when he thinks. I jump slightly when she makes a soft sound of triumph, lifting her electric blue eyes to meet mine.

“Trowa? Would you lead Duo here to the archives my brother keeps in the library? If we have any on hand, that is where they will be.”

“Thank you,” I tell her, giving another bow. I hear her laugh gently, and I can’t help my grin stretching farther.

The rich need to laugh more, I feel accomplished.

* * *

 

“This is where the records are kept. The house plans are here,” Trowa says, tapping a finger against a bookcase. I glance up, taking in the sheer height of the wooden shelf. Much _much_ too high for my tastes.

“I guess this is how bookworms get adrenaline rushes... constant risk of death each time they pass...” I mumble under my breath, eyes scanning the labels and titles of the numerous books weighing the shelves down. Seeing something that _might_ be promising, I pull out a folded map, opening the slightly-yellowing folds to reveal exactly what I’m looking for.

“Yes!” I cheer, setting the drawing on the empty desk behind me, mostly on the left end. I use the right end of the desk to lift my line-of-sight higher, not caring if I’m leaving footprints on the polished wood surface. The servant-people need something to do around here, don’t they?

A few more folded papers join my first find, much more than I thought would be here to be honest. Iria’s brother must be one of those people who just can’t throw shit away. Some of the papers on these shelves have no point in existing (who cares if they bought ten loaves of wheat bread thirty years ago?) but they’re still neatly placed with receipts dating even further back.

Meticulous. He should be working for Heero, not me...

I climb down from the desk, picking up my stack of goodies to take back to Heero for him to do whatever the hell he wants them for. Trowa locks the library up behind me, never saying a word. I quickly find my way back to the ‘base,’ where Heero and Wufei are already waiting.

“Lookie what I found!” I sing, setting the papers firmly in front of Heero. He blinks, picking up the top map carefully to look at before looking back at me.

“Good work. Watch the monitors while I examine these. Wufei, go show him how to work the equipment.”

* * *

 

“Anything interesting?” Wufei asks, leaning over my shoulder to peer at the monitor. I ignore the hand pressing down on my shoulder, not even bothering to move my hand as I mumble a negative.

“I don’t speak that language.” I lift my head, glowering at his much-too-awake attitude.

“Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nothing. I did get a great view of Tall-and-Creepy’s ass as he put away stuff in the hall a couple hours ago.”

“Wonderful. Now go to bed, It’s my turn.” I gladly relinquish my chair, only taking a detour to the bathroom before climbing under the covers and falling straight to sleep. I don’t think I sleep long though, as a hard smack against my face and a firm pressure on my chest wakes me up.

Opening my eyes, I instinctively toss my body to the side trying to dislodge the shadowy figure above me, but the firm grip around my wrists and waist keep me in place. After a moment I make out the person hovering over me.

“H’lo handsome,” I quip lightly, the panic ebbing away to be replaced with bewilderment. “Not that this is a bad wake-up call... but what the _hell_ are you doing?”

“Are you fully awake now?” he asks, ignoring my rather valid question. The puzzled feeling still lingers, and I just nod.

“Okay, I’m getting off of you now. Keep your hands right where they are.”

“What’s going on?” I demand, relaxing as Heero climbs off of me. He’s still hovering over my face though, and I notice his hands are still around my wrists.

“You felt a supernatural presence while you were sleeping. I want to get the bleeding stopped before you move your arms.” Instead of providing the normal response of relief, I just feel even _more_ bewildered. I’m tempted to lift my arms to examine the damage, but Heero has a nasty temper when he is disobeyed (and I should know).

“Oh. Okay.”

I can feel him working on my arms, the pain starting to set in as he cleans and wraps my freshly made wounds. I can feel the sheets sticking to my skin as he shifts my limbs, and I feel the temptation to lift my arms again; how far up did I go this time?

“Okay, sit up slowly, and let your legs drop off the bed. You’ll feel dizzy for a few moments, I’m getting you some liquids. Wufei is getting you a change of sheets and clothes.”

“...Where’s my shirt?”

“I took it off while you were still asleep.”

“Oooh.”

I feel his hand against my back as I sit upright, and the ‘dizzy’ feeling just about knocks me flat on my back again. This is a lot more than _dizzy_. He forgot to mention the nausea and spots in my vision when he told me what to expect.

“Is he awake now?” I hear Wufei ask, and I blink as he sets down the linens on Heero’s bed.

“Hey, when did you get here?”

“I thought he was awake,” Wufei mumbles, and Heero shakes his head.

“He keeps fading in and out.”

“Ambulance?”

“Negative. Liquids will recover him enough to stabilize, and the damage was stopped soon enough to eliminate the need for a transfusion.”

“It’s your call,” is all Wufei says, and I feel like the Asian guy at the bar mitzvah. I know I hear the words, but I can’t understand what they’re talking about.

“Who needs blood? I can give’em some. There’s some on the bed still.”

“Are you sure you want to keep him here?” Wufei prods again at Heero, who just glares back. Wufei backs up, lifting his arms.

“Okay okay, I’m going back to work. I’m analyzing the recordings for any references as to what we’re dealing with.”

“Affirmative,” Heero snaps, holding out another glass to me. I blankly hand him an empty one in my loose grip, unsure of when I took the drink, let alone drank it.

“S’what happening?” I ask him, my tongue feeling very heavy and solid in my mouth. The words come out garbled, and I blink as I hear myself. Wow, did I try to bite my tongue out too?

“We caught evidence of a spirit starting thirty minutes ago. Your reaction was what prompted us to search for a presence, in fact. By the time I returned to check on you, you had already dealt yourself significant damage.” Heero’s words are sharp, clear, and toneless; as if he’s merely reading a little blurb he found in the business section of the paper (don’t ask me how I know this).

“S’what’re you gonna do ‘bout it?”

“...Feel like being bait again?”

* * *

 

“I hate you.” Heero snorts, strapping the ComBox onto my chest. My arms are still bandaged and hard to move, so all the things I’ll be using the most are placed within easy reach of my fingers.

“I’m well aware. Now shut up and lift your head.”

I comply, giving him a sneer as I lift my chin to let the wire be secured on my collar and behind my ear. A small lens is sticking forward, coloring a small part of my world see-through red.

“So what ‘m I doing again?”

Heero sighs, moving around the back of me and tightening the straps to my bag. “You’re going to visit the ‘hot spots’ around the house, since the dead seem to enjoy your presence.”

“It was _one_ dead kid, an’ I happened to be friendly-ish with his mom. I don’t think that counts.”

“We’ve been going over the recordings. Each time your presence is near one of the areas supernatural events occurred, a small spike flared. You said it yourself, you’re our ‘radar;’ we can track the movement of the spirit by its reaction to you.”

“And my reaction to it,” I remind him, rubbing my arm against my hip. He narrows his eyes and I quickly stop.

“Exactly. There’s something that doesn’t seem right about this haunting, and I need you out there to be my eyes. Cameras can only pick up so much.”

“Gotcha. I get permission to peep on people, I’m good.”

“At least knock first,” Heero cautions, moving away from me. I give him a grin, waving goodbye to Wufei.

“Keep me updated, kay Wu-man?”

“Don’t _call_ me that,” he snaps, glaring at me briefly before looking back at his screen. I snicker, walking out the door and heading to the first ‘hot spot.’ When I reach the large picture window on the west side of the house, I pause, looking around the hallway for anything out of place.

“Reached the window,” I say into the mic, my finger pressing down on the red button on the ComBox. Releasing the button, I wait for a response, or at least a clue of what the hell to do.

“We’re getting light activity, I want you to try communicating to it.”

“And who is _it_?” I mulishly ask, feeling awkward. I hear a snort (damn Wufei!) and I start talking to the person-ghost-thing-who-isn’t-really-here-most-likely.

“Yo, dead guy. Who the hell are you? I don’t like talking to someone I don’t know or can’t see, so why don’t you come out and talk to me face-to-face?”

“I can’t believe it’s working.”

I hear Wufei talking, but it’s from within Heero’s mic as he tells me, “Good work, keep going.”

“I know you can hear me, so stop fuckin’ around and just come out already.”

I don’t need the voices in my head (also known as Heero and Wufei) to tell me my comments are having an effect. The rattling glass and flickering lights, along with the dropping temperature, gives me enough of a clue as to what effects my words are having.

“Hey, I know you’re here. So why not just chat with me. Maybe we can figure out what the fuck your beef is with the Winner house, ne?”

I see a shimmer of air before I feel the cold sensation of hands against my back. I quickly drop to the floor, ignoring the quick and blinding pain in my arms in lieu of not following Trowa out the window. The air warms afterwards, and Heero’s voice confirms what I think happened.

“He’s gone. Move onto the next area.”

* * *

 

“So we have determined that there is only one spirit present in the home. A male in his mid thirties, of European descent. Other details should be uncovered with further analysis. Motives behind the spirit’s violence towards resident Trowa Barton, and now investigator Duo Maxwell, are also unknown. Additions built onto the original house have been noted, and all discrepancies are being checked for any details or evidence that might be provoking or fueling the ghost’s motives. Live recording, both in video and audio, have captured the presence of a spirit, along with eyewitness reports from Resident Barton and Investigator Maxwell. Other supporting evidence includes physical wounds on Resident Barton and Investigator Maxwell--”

“What wounds?” I interrupt Heero’s monologue-quality report, and the scathing stare sent my way silences me faster than walking in on Wufei in the office bathroom some-odd weeks ago.

“--in the forms of hand-shaped bruising on the neck of Resident Barton and handprint-shaped markings on Investigator Maxwell.”

Heero turns off the tape recorder, pushing it away from him and letting his forehead come to rest on the cool surface of the table. I lift myself up on the edge, my legs swinging back and forth as I wait for Heero to cool down from his frustration.

“It’s only been one night. You don’t have to have all the answers already. You said it yourself that these ghosts tend to be shy, so the fact you have shit to study already should make you happy.”

“I dislike working with so many secrets around me.”

“So you noticed it too. Cloak-and-daggers, I tell you. Want me to do some investigating, since I’ve apparently been promoted to Investigator Maxwell?” My voice is lightly teasing, but my face shows him I’m completely serious in my offer.

“...Don’t get yourself caught,” is all Heero says, and I know I’ve been given free reign to do as I please.

It might disgust Wufei, but Heero remembers exactly what life I lived before coming to work for him.  At least he appreciates my talents.

* * *

 

Usually sneaking into the residence of such a wealthy family takes much more effort; the fact that I’m already inside the building, and that Iria only has three employed workers and an absent brother makes it even easier to break into the archive room in the back of the library.

“Lemme see what I couldn’t look at last time,” I mumble, lifting myself up on the bookshelf-of-death. I don’t use the desk as I did last time, as the footprints would be a dead giveaway; instead I use the shelves themselves as steps to where I noticed residential records last time.

“Deaths, deaths, deaths,” I mumble as I pull bound papers off the shelf, slipping them down the front of my sweater. They slide down the fabric, coming to stop at where I have my jacket cinched tightly and tucked into my belted pants.

Rule number one: don’t carry more than you have to. Rule number two: improvisation works best when done smartly.

I take all the death and residential records I notice, making sure to place objects in the empty spaces left behind to pass a quick glance; anyone with two brain cells to rub together will notice if they look hard enough, but the shelf with the papers is much much higher than eye-level, so they’d have to be looking for what I’m taking to notice the problem.

I climb back down the shelf, cleaning away any footprints or smudges left by my hands as I descend. It takes only minutes for me to be back in the main part of the large library, and to make my way towards the Glass Room, where I noticed something odd during my first snoop around yesterday.

“Let’s take a closer look, shall we?” I ask my shadow, jimmying the door open and sliding in quickly before I can be noticed. Glass baubles, decorations, and fixtures glitter back at me in the faint moonlight, giving reason to the name I placed upon this particular room. I had resisted the temptation to enter last time I snuck around, but my motives are much different than last time; I’m on the prowl for something out of place, and I know I’ll find it inside this fragile room.

I close my eyes, letting my memory draw forth the quick view I had last time of this room. When I open my eyes, they’re looking right where I had seen the faint out-of-place shimmer. In the darkness I can’t see it, but I can fix that easily.

Moving closer, I make sure to not nudge or bump any of the numerous surfaces on my way over to the shadowy corner.

“Why is it always shadows? Why can’t creepy things of the undead be in a happy, sunshiny place? For just once, I want to go raid a beach cottage or somewhere in the Caribbean....”

“That does sound nice,” I hear an amused voice answer me, and I spin around, knife in hand. Tall-and-Creepy is standing behind me, his arms folded loosely and a raised brow directed at me.

“Jesus man, give a guy a little warning.” Tall-and-Creepy lets out a chuckle, his voice staying soft and unthreatening as he continues to talk to me.

“Next time I see a man breaking into my home and stealing my belongings, I’ll give him fair warning,” he promises, and I can’t help the small laugh that escapes.

“That would be rather strange. So... come here often?” I ask, letting my body fall into a subtle dip. He matches me, his eyes hooding as he looks me over.

“No, but I might now that I know you’re here. Plan on staying long?”

“Depends. What do I get if I say yes?”

He stalks closer, and I suppress the desire to move back away from him. My eyes are watching as he moves close enough for me to smell him; the rather pleasant smell of a man who works for a living, and knows how to care for himself.

“I’ll let you in on some of the secrets floating around in the air. I see much working here day in and day out, and I know things that you and your companions do not.”

“Oh, that _does_ sound enticing,” I purr, letting my hand come to rest against his clothed chest. I can feel the firm muscles underneath, flexing in response to my touch. He leans in, his lips a whisper away from the curve of my ear.

“Names are easily obtained and discarded. Don’t believe everything you see, and check for the circles that haunt your dreams.”

My blood turns cold, and he moves back, looking me over only once before turning his back to me and walking out. It takes me several more minutes before I pull myself together and call it a night.

It doesn’t occur to me until the morning that Tall-and-Creepy stopped me from my original goal in the room. Fucking bastard.

* * *

 

“You, Duo Maxwell, are a god,” Wufei breathes, his fingers tracing over the aged papers in a manner that makes me want to tell him to get a room. I snicker, letting myself lean back against Heero as I preen in the praise of my hard work. Heero’s elbow pushes against me, and I remove my back from his.

“I didn’t have enough time to investigate some other suspicions I have, but it will be easier to do _that_ in the daylight anyways. Details are hard to make out in the dark,” I inform them, omitting my rather embarrassing encounter with Tall-and-Creepy. I didn’t want to think about his ‘hint,’ or what he actually managed to pull over on me.

Bastard.

“We can start process of elimination, as we know the general age and origin of the deceased. Duo, you rest for now while I examine the tapes more to see if any more details can be found to help our search. I’ll wake you when you’re needed again.”

“Roger, Capt’n,” I say, giving him a sloppy salute before going to find the very comfortable sofa against the wall of our Base. I lay down, curling my legs up against my chest as I pull my braid out from under my body. Heero’s watching me, and when I meet his eyes he gives a nod before turning away.

He’ll wake me up if I start flipping out again. It’s the reason I’m sleeping in here instead of in our room.

I decide I prefer staying back at the office when a case comes up, as I wake up to the sensation of deja vu.

“Hey handsome, I take dinner first,” I mumble, closing my eyes and relaxing. I feel, more than hear, Heero’s laugh (which doesn’t even last long enough to use as evidence that my boss is human) but his words reassure me more than his suddenly-gained humor.

“You have no new injuries. You will rest only in our presence from now on.”

“Mmkay, can I sleep now?” His answer is delayed; I can see him weighing the choice of letting me sleep longer in his eyes.

“In a couple of hours you can sleep again. For now, I need you to help me form a more solid profile of our ghost.”

“S’probably smart,” I mumble, feeling Heero climb off of me. I sit up once he’s off, looking around. Wufei is absent, the papers missing and the computer turned off.

“Where’s Sir Grumpy?” I ask absently, stumbling to my feet. I curl my toes as blood rushes back to the neglected parts, the sensation making me want to curl back up on the sofa. I hate this feeling.

“Following our ghost. It appeared five minutes ago on the monitor and Wufei’s the only person among us trained to handle spirits.”

“Then why the hell did you send me in after it?!” I turn around to look him in the eye, my arms folding against my chest instinctively. Heero blandly stares back, not as upset about this revelation as I am.

“You’re the radar. He’s the eliminating force. Get used to it.”

I make snide, crude comments under my breath as I reboot Wufei’s laptop.

“So when do I get one of these? Or is the title only honorary?” I muse aloud, watching the screen change colors as the systems start on the small computer. To my surprise, I actually get an answer to my not-a-real-question.

“When we return to the office, I’ll let you pick one out. And the title is valid, as you are investigating alongside myself.”

“Neat. I want something sexy.”

“If you find a computer that fulfills your sexual desires, go ahead and get it,” Heero mutters, sitting back down at his own computer. I can’t help the laughter that escapes, my head dropping hard onto the table as my stomach muscles clench. I barely hear the knock on the door, or the voice asking if we’re okay in here over the sound of my own amusement.

My laughter fades as Creepy-but-Hot is in the doorway, watching me having my fit. I take in his impassive stare, letting my own gaze match his muted green eyes evenly. Heero doesn’t move to break our stalemate; the ass is probably trying to read into it. I hope he doesn’t find anything, but he’s an ass, so I know he will.

 _I know what you did, Creepy_ , I think bitterly, the knowledge that he pulled one over on me a bitter taste in my throat. I can _see_ the smugness of this knowledge in his face, and I get the intense urge and desire to deck him across that gorgeous face of his.

“As you can see, there is no trouble in here. If you could leave, we have work to do for the Lady Winner.”

“I shall let you get back to working then.”

As soon as the door closes, Heero’s moving my way. Like I fucking knew he would.

Bastard.

“What was that?” he demands, his posture borderline threatening. I stiffen, looking away from his intense and _demanding_ aura to gaze at a rather interesting stain on the wallpaper. Heero, ever-so-impatient, repeats his question more forcefully.

“We had a run-in last night that didn’t turn out so well in my favour. The dick’s rubbing it in my face, so just back _off_!” I snarl, standing up and spinning to face him. Heero’s face goes blank, the demanding and oppressive aura he’s emanating vanishing almost as quickly as it had formed. The sudden lack of pressure leaves me lightheaded, and I drop shakily back into my seat.

“Next time inform me of such details. I dislike being caught unaware.”

* * *

 

“You’re not going to find anything in there,” I announce, closing the door firmly behind me. Heero and Wufei look up from their computers, questions glittering in their eyes.

“Jason Gossman, age 33, born April fifth of the year 1865 and died on October thirty-first. Never married, but was believed to be the biological father of Angelica Faus, daughter of Francine and Joseph Faus. A product of an affair, if you’re putting the facts together right. Killed in a boating accident off the coast of Britain, about six-hundred feet from shore. His body was never found.”

“And where did you get this information?” Wufei demands, closing the lid to his computer. Heero leaves his open, but the same question is reflected on his face.

“Oh, me and Jay had a lovely chat down in the sunroom. I think it looks just as lovely in the moonlight as it does at noon, if you want to know.” The stunned looks on both of their faces is so worth the method of delivery.

“His remains are still about where the boat sunk, though a bit displaced due to currents and all that good technical shit. He actually is nowhere near the residence except for the fact he was pulled here against his will. He’s been a bit moody, apparently there was a lovely little maiden that died over on his side of the pond a couple decades ago and she’s finally starting to warm up to him. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

“Wufei, start a search for Jason Gossman. Duo, give me all the details you can provide so that we can end this today.”

I move to sprawl on the sofa, watching Wufei’s fingers fly over the keys and the intense look of concentration on his face as he nibbles on the new lead. Heero pulls out his thrice-damned notebook, ready to take my ‘testimony’ word-for-word (I know this, having been the one to type all those fucking notes up on the office computer).

“So I was doing a fair bit of snooping when Jay-jay shows up, all bitter and pissy like he was last time we met. Using my great charisma and charm, I convince him to stop trying to shove me down the stairs and just talk about his problems instead. It worked, of course, and so we just walked around and he shared his woes with me. About how he died, how he never got to know his daughter, how the husband of his daughter’s mother pushed him off the boat while tied to a large block of concrete... He had a lot on his mind. Then, when he’s finally adjusting to being dead and meets a nice little dead lady, some dick summons his soul over to this place and just drops him off here without instruction or reason as to why. So he’s been attacking people, though the blond guy’s the only one he can get a grip on. Oh, and me. He apologized for that, by the way. Make a note of that.”

I watch his hands as he quickly scribbles down my words, the movements surprisingly helping me drift off to sleep. Heero either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because soon I’m no longer in the room.

I know it’s a dream. I know because I’ve already seen this, been here, dreamed this dream before. The room reeks of blood, the light glittering off the freshly drawn markings and circles surrounding me. I close my eyes, not wanting my dream-self to see the much-too-real remains on the center of the floor, the sound of breaking bones ringing in my ears. Despite my eyes being tightly squeezed shut, I still see a vivid red circle in my sight.

_Who._

* * *

 

“What are we looking for?” Wufei grumbles, trailing behind me along with the silent Heero, the confused Trowa, and Creepy-but-Hot taking the rear.

“A circle with a plus sign in the middle. Probably drawn in either red pen or blood. It will be small, might have some other scribbles, but easy to notice.”

“Why does this matter?” God damn, can’t Wufei just jump when I say so?

“Because, as I told Hee-chan--” I ignore the heated glare directed my way at that nickname “-- Jay-jay isn’t supposed to be here. While reading your creepy library, I came across a book that talked of summoning back the dead. Someone summoned Jay here, so there has to be a tangible, visible mark that’s keeping him here. There might even be a mark for what his purpose is.”

“Someone’s out to get Lady Iria?” Trowa asks, startled. I glance back at him steadily, raising my brow in disbelief.

“No. Someone was out to get _you_ , but fucked it up. Jay has no clue why he’s here, but he’s trying to kill you anyways.”

The feeling of _wrongness_ spreads at the muted reaction. Either Trowa’s used to people trying to off him, or...

 _He already knows. He fucking_ knew.

I let it slide for now, debating on how letting Wufei know first would end up turning out. The more I let the idea play in my head, the more it grows on me. The next time I get him alone, I’ll tell him.

Heero’s the one who finds the marking. It’s in the Glass Room, behind the curtain trim in the corner Creepy-but-Hot kept me from checking that night he one-upped me. I ignore the stare of Creepy-but-Sexy on my back as I trace the symbol.

“This is it. No real focus, it’s vague to an extreme.” I pull out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, wetting a corner of the white fabric hanging across the window and smudging the circle. I drag the cloth across the surface roughly, the dry blood smearing into a light pink stain against the ivory-toned wall.

I can sense the moment Jason vanishes from the home, the feeling of needles flowing under my skin vanishing abruptly. I can feel my breathing deepen, the thought of how shallow it must have been all this time unsettling.

I’m so just staying home next time.

“He should be back with his body, or on to the next realm,” I announce, letting the stained lace fall back against the windowpane. I pocket the little bottle, brushing my hands on my pants as I stand up and look at each person in the room. My eyes hover on Trowa, flickering to Creepy-but-Sexier before landing on my team.

“Can we ditch this joint now? The opulence is starting to blind me.”

* * *

 

It takes less than an hour to pack back up the car. Heero settles the finer details with Iria, my own farewell being an exaggerated kiss to her knuckles and a laugh from her. It’s nice to see her smile for once. I tell her she should do it more often.

Heero slides into the passenger seat, an envelope being tucked into the glovebox as he closes the car door. I climb into the back seat, letting myself sprawl across the fabric as I relish the thought of going home to my little shit-hole.

As we leave the damned place behind, the only thought on my mind is that they won’t notice the missing bedsheets. They’re too fucking comfy to leave behind.


	3. Case 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Duo learns that their clients lied to them, gambling ensues, male bonding occurs, and Duo has two children.

“Is this even legal?” I question, examining the paper. It looks just like a real certificate, given to someone who might have actually earned one. I know I haven’t taken any test or sat in any class to be allowed to have such a snazzy piece of paper with my name scrawled across it.

“I’m shocked you care about the legality in the first place,” Wufei mocks, and I shake my head, not bothering to look away from _my_ certificate.

“I’m more shocked that you’d try your hand at forging something than it being forged in the first place,” I remark, “I thought you--” I pause in mid sentence, my eyes spotting something other than my name.

“You are a _fucking prick_ ,” I snarl, setting the framed paper down harshly. Wufei chuckles, perching himself on the edge of my desk and picking up the frame.

“You are right in thinking I wouldn’t lower myself to making that. This is all Heero’s work,” he tells me, tapping the wooden corner lightly against my desk. I scowl, turning my face away and closing my eyes.

“And here I thought you’d be happy to officially be a paranormal investigator!” Wufei exclaims, the sarcasm so heavy I swear it’s leaving a film on my ears.

“Yes, _that_ isn’t what’s pissin’ me off,” I snap, gesturing to the line below the one Wufei’s speaking of.

“Oh, you mean the--”

“Paranormal Tracking Specialist.” Heero’s tone is bland, though I think I might be deluding myself into hearing amusement as well. “I thought it would be more official than putting you down as having a built-in homing device.”

“Go rot in Hell, you bastard,” I grumble, the anger evaporating into weariness. “Go... put it wherever the fuck you keep that shit.”

“Wow, did you just _give up_ a perfectly good fight?”

I make a mental note to smother Wufei tonight with his pillow. I’d use my own, but I don’t want to get his spittle and snot all over the gold silk case. I worked hard to steal those!

“I needed an official reason to keep you working for me. Having you employed here is a risk I’m willing to take until you can obtain official documentation of your citizenship.”

I scowl, my hands clenching. I hear Heero sigh before he moves to take Wufei’s now vacant place on my desk. I look up at him bitterly before glancing away.

“You do good work. For right now the certificate is the only proof you exist.”

“I know, I’m just pissy today,” I mutter, letting my head rest on the desk.

“Are the wounds still bothering you?”

“Yes! They itch, but whenever I try to fix it, it hurts instead. I hate scabs,” I whine, rubbing my wrapped arms against my pants. It’s been over two months since we did that case at Iria Winner’s place, and I still have marks to show for it.

“If you stopped reopening them, they would heal.”

“I can’t help it, I’m asleep!” I say defensively, bringing my legs up to my chest, resting my heels on the seat and wrapping my arms around my knees, placing my chin on them as well. Heero rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to retort. He doesn’t get to share with the class though, since the front door opens.

As Heero and myself are right here, and Wufei can be heard in his office (cursing - he probably lost another book) the person at the door must be a client. Heero looks over his shoulder, his face going blank(er).

Yup, that’s his ‘Customer Service’ face. Which is why I’m amazed we have any work to do around here.

Though when I look past him, which takes effort as he’s sitting in my line of sight, I can understand why his face is so terrifyingly empty.

“Hello! Can we have a moment of your time, please?”

“What the fuck?” I mutter, Heero standing from what I now am thinking of as ‘his’ spot at my desk.

“I have some time, we may talk. Have you had any more problems since our last visit?”

“Oh no, Iria’s quite pleased with the work you did for her. She often comments how quiet it is without Duo around. She rather misses him.”

I snort, intensely focusing on the screen of my monitor. There are fish swimming across it, but I must make sure the screensaver isn’t broken. That’s much more important than paying attention to Smiles-Too-Much and the Creepy-Sexy-Guy.

 “Then what can we do for you today?” I hear Heero ask, the answer not being revealed to me as his soundproof door is closed before Trowa speaks. I look over at Betty, her drooping limbs reflecting my sour mood.

“I know, Betty. We have to stick together, though.”

“The plant can’t talk,” Wufei informs me, setting down a cup on my desk. I sniff the contents, savoring the strong scent of bitter coffee.

“Oh, you’re a lifesaver,” I moan, picking the cup up and inhaling deeply before drinking. The pleasurable burn down my throat as the energy-providing substance enters my body forces a long groan out of my throat, a groan that’s making Wufei turn rather red in the face.

“Gods, Maxwell, do you have to make drinking coffee _lewd_?”

“Only when _you_ make it for me, baby,” I say with a wink. That comment’s apparently all he can handle, since he quickly retreats into his office. I cackle as I sip at the black coffee, the foam cup warming my cool fingers.

I hate the cold. I always have trouble staying warm, always feeling the biting cold even in the middle of summer. Hell, it’s almost August and I sleep with two heavy blankets and a quilt to try to ward the cold away. Unsuccessfully, of course; I’ve never managed to sleep warmly in my life.

I let myself mope for several minutes on the unfairness of being constantly cold before getting back to my work. Heero and Wufei did a study at some local school and it’s my job to translate their horrific note-taking into something understandable to the average person. I think they could make a whole college program on just translating Heero’s cryptic note-taking methods, and possibly throw in a minor of “Deciphering Wufei” as well. I’d finally get a real degree if they did that, let me tell you!

For a thirty minute test, it takes almost three hours to make sense of what they wrote down; afterwards it only takes me ten minutes to type it all up into a pretty little graph and print it off into a folder to store in Heero’s massive collection of papers and files. Trowa and Creeper are still in Heero’s office, and I resist the temptation to go in and bother them for some nonsensical reason; I have no desire to get near Creepy right now, I’m still holding a grudge from him duping me.

But I don’t have to go into Heero’s little sanctuary to get exposed to Creepy. I ignore him, making sure that my little frog makes it across the busy street safely. Clicking madly on the screen, I let out a cry of dismay as a semi-truck runs over my little frog.

“Sonofa--”

It’s harder to ignore the envelope shoving its way into my elbow, so I give it a glance before clicking on my frog again. It hops forward, only to get squashed by some fancy rich-ass guy’s car.

“Fuckin’ prick, watch where you’re going!” I yell at the car, starting the game back over. Creepy is still somewhere near me, according to the needle-like sensations under my flesh, but I can’t see him while I’m staring at my screen, not even out of the corner of my eyes. So is it any surprise when I jump a foot in my chair when an arm reaches over my shoulder to take my mouse? No, no I don’t think so.

“Here,” is all he says, rapidly clicking my frog across the road. It safely makes it to the other side, and I look up into his smug face that I _really_ want to deck now.

“Don’t throw it away, she really wanted you to have it,” Trowa says, moving away from me. The burning sensation along my right shoulder and back fade as he moves away, and I can feel the pain lessening as he walks towards the front door. I call out to him before he leaves though, feeling foolish immediately after. But I still ask the question that’s been haunting me for the last few months.

“What’s your name, anyways?” Creeper smirks, the look in his eyes making my stomach churn, and not in a fun way either.

“I am Trowa Barton. A pleasure to meet you.”

It takes several minutes to process that, and by the time I find a reasonable response somewhere in my rattled brain, he’s long gone. The blond, who either shares a name or someone’s lying, exits Heero’s office, his demeanor rather pleased.

“I will be hearing from you, yes?” he questions, speaking to Heero, obviously. Heero nods, opening the front door to let Lying-Asshole out, and closing it without another word. I raise an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair casually.

“So who the fuck is he really? Because I just had a rather strange encounter with Trowa Barton, who was not the one that just left.”

“His name is Quatre Winner, younger brother to Lady Winner,” Heero answers, the indifference in his voice making my homicidal levels raise a few notches. Maybe Wufei isn’t the only person who’ll be smothered by a pillow tonight...

“So does that make him Lord Winner?” I ask snidely, hating the titles that the rich dicks require be tacked on instead of a perfectly normal first name. Heero’s shaking his head though, making me lose my angry tirade somewhere in a sea of disbelief.

“He is not a Lord of the family, merely her younger brother.” The scoff that leaves my mouth isn’t muffled in the least, the skepticism rather clear on my face and in my blunt words.

“How does _that_ work? You said Iria only had one younger brother, and that’s _him_.”

Heero shrugs, leaning against my desk. “I do not have enough conclusive evidence to provide a sufficient explanation. All I understand currently is that he is not qualified to be the heir to his family.” I roll my eyes, sticking my hand out towards him with the damn folder with his test results in it.

“Here’s your fuckin’ test stuff. Go put it wherever you put this shit before you find a use for it.”

Heero snorts, grabbing the folder and heading back to his office. Before he closes the door though, he gets the last word in, as usual.

“Pack a bag for at least a week. We leave the office tomorrow morning at oh-seven-hundred hours. Don’t be late, don’t be drunk.”

* * *

 

I’m dozing on the little sofa in the office when Wufei walks through the unlocked door, his keys in one hand while the other is extended from where he pushed the door open. My bag is under my head, having improvised as a pillow while I waited for the others to show up. He wrinkles his nose, moving towards me. I glare up blearily at him, closing my eyes again as the light hits me. I bury my face into my bag, groaning.

“Are you drunk again?”

“Nnnn....” I mumble, lifting my head enough to speak clearly. “’m pos’-drun’.”

“And is that any better?” Wufei grumbles, heading towards the small kitchenette that the office has. I can hear him running water and banging something metal against something else that’s metal as well, and I swear to all that is unholy that he’s doing it on fucking purpose.

I must have fallen back asleep because I get a faceful of steam the next time I open my eyes. Coffee greets my sight, and I might have spilled a little on Wufei in my haste to grab the cup from his grip. I drink half the cup in a couple swallows, the scalding pain easy to ignore in the relief from my throbbing headache.

“There’s a whole pot, with some medicinal herbs mixed in to relieve the pain. I recommend drinking the rest before Heero shows up, or there will be Hell to pay.”

“They take credit,” I mumble tiredly, finishing the cup. “Visa and MasterCard.”

“Good to know,” is Wufei’s snide remark, but I don’t care enough to bite back right now. I move towards the kitchenette, finding the salvation Wufei told me of. Pouring another cup of the jacked-up coffee, I seat myself on the counter to drink the cup. After working through half of the pot, I open the cupboard above the coffee machine, pulling my hair ties and brush out to fix my hair. I haven’t showered this morning, as I was much too busy working through what was left of my alcohol before I leave for the week, and I know my hair’s turning into a rat’s nest. Or several, given the length I sport.

Heero comes into the office right on time, as usual, and finds me with an empty coffee pot and a half-plaited braid, a brush tangled in the last foot of hair and a slew of crass words streaming from my lips.

“Finish your vodka off before it went bad?” Heero asks me, and I nod, tugging at my hair steadily. It moves about a half-centimeter, and in the wrong direction.

“Fuckin’ brush’s a piece of shit that serves better as a fuck-toy--”

“Here, move,” Heero sighs, pushing me off the counter. I stiffen, my shoulders and back rigid as Heero’s deft fingers quickly work the brush free and smooth out the remaining length of my hair. I can feel his fingers quickly finishing my braid, the elastic twisting and holding the ends together to keep the hair from separating once more. I move away from him quickly, spinning around to pin him with a glare.

“Don’t. Touch. My. Hair.”

“Then be ready to leave on time, and I won’t need to,” he responds, tossing a jacket at me. I catch it, confused.

“Er, you know it’s the middle of August--”

“And I know you’re still going to freeze on the drive over. I want to eliminate as many sources of irritation as possible for you on the drive, to preserve the sanity of everyone else. Now shut up and get moving, we are running late enough as it is.”

“Roger,” I mumble, slipping the coat on. It _is_ warmer, and I revel in the slight warmth before remembering that I’m supposed to be hauling ass to the car.

* * *

 

“So what’s going on this time that you need to drag me along?” I ask, growing bored with the scenery. Wufei is once again driving, making me wonder if he is the only one of us with a license. I have never seen Heero behind the wheel, and I know I lack a license, though that never stops me from driving.

“Quatre Winner believes his childhood friend is possessed by a supernatural force, and with our success at his elder sister’s home he requested our help with this as well.”

“Great, so I’m taking it this friend is rich-out-the-ass as well?” I sneer, and Heero nods compliantly.

“The client’s name is Relena Darlian-Peacecraft; the youngest daughter of the Peacecraft family, adopted by the Darlian family, then after their deaths was raised by her older brother.”

“Geez, fifty bucks says she’s whacked in the head,” I mutter, holding my palm out between Heero and Wufei. Heero ignores me, but Wufei reaches over and taps my palm.

“I’ll call and raise ten saying she’s obsessive.”

“An extra five says she’s going to get the hots for our most esteemed boss here--”

“Three days off of work if you two cut it out now and shut the hell up!” Heero snaps, and I chuckle, withdrawing my hand.

“Is that immediate or will it be a raincheck?” I tease, scribbling the odds down in my notebook. Heero deems me as not important enough to answer at the moment, so I refocus on Wufei, who’s grinning.

“So that is 65 dollars. Any other criteria you wish to state?”

“No, I’ll hold it there.” I reach over to shake his hand, sealing the bet.

Heero’s scowling at the window, and I pat him on the head as I sit back down.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find a bet you’re able to win one day, I promise!”

* * *

 

“I swear to every deity that’s listening, Duo Maxwell, I am never getting back in that car with you!”

I pout, dramatically sticking my lower lip out as I slouch against the side of the car.

“Oh Wuffer-lover, don’t say such mean things. And here I thought we finally got over our problems!”

“The only problem I have is _you_ ,” he snaps, pulling a bag out of the trunk. I move beside him, leaning down to grab a box. While I do this, I look up at him and bat my eyelashes.

“Oh, you say the sweetest things, honey.”

He snarls, hitting the side of my head with the bag of camera equipment, causing my face to knock against the wall of the trunk. Swearing, I drop my box to clutch my swelling cheek. Heero moves next to me, lifting a box himself.

“Next time, you should just learn when to shut the hell up.”

“Hey, boredom does strange things to me,” I garble out in my defense, the side of my face starting to feel like someone was trying to blow balloons up under my skull. Heero only rolls his eyes at my excuse, his words sharp and biting as he breaks my feeble defenses.

“So you blame boredom for your graphic descriptions of what Chang does to the office plants when he’s alone? Or what he would look like in... what did you even call them?”

“ _Garters_ , my dear socially-retarded friend, _garters_.”

“Yes, those. I can understand his frustration with you right now, quite clearly in fact. Give him some space before antagonizing him even more, or he might be the one suffocating you in your sleep instead of the other way around.”

“...You’ve been reading my diary again, haven’t you?” I accuse, lifting up the box again in time to walk next to Heero. He shakes his head, giving me a sidelong glance.

“I have no need to as you’re quite vocal in your thoughts, enough to skip that stage.”

“Hmm... Good point,” I concede, following Heero to a room that seems to have been set aside for our use. Heero and I work on unloading the car as Wufei wires everything up for us to operate, and I wonder where the people living here are. No one greeted us like they had at Iria’s place, though it had been her brother and not her servant who did the greeting (even if I didn’t know that then). But we were still brought in and shown where to go. Here, it seems like Heero just chose a random room and decided we’re going to use it. And now that I think of it, we let ourselves into the house too.

“So where is everyone?” I ask when the question really begins to irritate me. Heero glances at me for a moment before setting down the last box of shit we had to grab from the car.

“The resident staff have been given leave until Ms. Peacecraft is returned to her usual self. Winner and Barton will be assisting in any residential matters that will be needed during our stay.”

I freeze, my hand hovering unsteadily over the drink I was about to steal from Wufei. I hear my voice squeak and crack as I give my thoughts on the matter, though I’ll deny it if either of them point it out.

“B-Barton and Winner are staying? Seriously? Do you _want_ to kill me?!”

“Due to the nature of the case and the subsequent reactions that it will provoke, you will already be sleeping and resting under supervision to begin with. This minor detail changes nothing that will affect your safety and well-being,” Heero says, unperturbed. I stalk up to him, resisting the urge to shove him like I _really_ want to, and instead move my face close to his, staring him right in the eye.

“There are many more reasons I do not wish to be near them.”

“I’m aware. You are not required to work directly with them if you wish that to be the case.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” I lean back away from him, grinning in a way that might become real if I hold it long enough. “So boss! Where do I begin today?”

* * *

 

“And of course, I end up starting as bait. I really should get a new job,” I mutter to myself, peeking into each room as I walk by. Apparently this Relena girl is somewhere around the mansion (and yes, this house is much bigger than Iria’s) and being the ‘official radar’ of the office, I’m the one who gets to go find her. And she isn’t going to come out and play nicely, since she’s _hiding_ from us.

“So far, Wu-man, I’m winning the bet.” The earpiece gives static for a couple moments before I hear his voice over the Com.

“You haven’t even seen her yet, let alone watched her long enough to say that.”

“A full-grown woman who’s playing _hide-and-seek_ doesn’t sound like the perfect picture of sanity, Wu-wu-buns.”

“And how would you know what sanity looks like?”

“Saw it in a movie once,” I reply cheerfully, not put off by his scathing remarks. “It looked rather dull, so I’m glad I’ve never had to be that.”

“That explains so much,” he mutters, and the Com goes back to the annoying, staticky silence I’ve grown far-too-used to. And to think, this is only my second case with the guys.

Early retirement, anyone?

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” I holler down the hall I turn into, pausing hopefully for a response. I get none, so I set about opening doors to look for our missing client.

As I reach the next floor (Did I mention there’s four of them? And that’s aboveground.) I take a deep breath before yelling loudly, my voice echoing in the empty hallways.

“Olly olly oxen free!”

To my surprise, I hear a crash, followed by a stream of curses. Pinpointing the noise, I move towards the third door on the left, knocking loudly.

“Hello? Room service!”

“One moment!” I hear a high-pitched voice shout back through the door, before a haggard face shows up in my immediate vision. I jump back, lifting my arms defensively. She jumps back too, confusion in her eyes.

“You are not room service? Who are you? Where am I? Am I at a hotel? Oh! I can’t remember!” she wails, well-chewed nails clawing at her forehead as she tries to think, or so I’m guessing. I grab her wrists, moving them away from the lightly-bleeding scratches she’s making, and look her in the eyes.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“I’m Relena Darlian-Peacecraft, and I asked you first!”

 _‘Yet, she still answered me,’_ I think, rather amused.

“I’m Duo. Your friend Quatre hired my boss to help you with something. Do you know what that is?”

“No, I don’t! Now tell me where I am!”

“You’re in your house, on the third story in the second corridor, third room to the left. Does that give you enough of a clue?” I watch her chew on that nice little slab of info, and her eyes light up as A meets B.

“I... I’m at home? Then why did you say you are room service? Are you the new catering company Quatre wanted to get for me? I told him I didn’t want you here! So go away!” I sigh, gripping one of her wrists as I tug her after me, using my other hand to press the button on the ComBox.

“Found her. And I _so_ get that fifty dollars, Wu.”

* * *

 

“I told you I don’t want a catering company working for me! Victorie and Jasmine give me plenty to eat, and do a good job of it as well! Send them away!” Relena shouts, her stormy blue eyes glaring angrily into Quatre Winner’s placid aqua. He places a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down into her seat for the umpteenth time.

“They aren’t a catering company, they’re paranormal researchers. Remember what I told you last week, about what was happening around here? About why I sent your staff on vacation for a month’s time? About your missing time?”

“No, I don’t! I don’t want them here, I don’t want _you_ here! I don’t want _me_ here either! I want _no one_ here!”

“Wow, she makes so much sense, I’m giving her a medal,” I grunt, moving a red scrap of paper forward on the inlaid chessboard.

“She can have the silver one,” Wufei agrees, moving a green piece of paper forward to counter my move. I sneer, forfeiting my piece to his ever-growing collection.

“So who’s taking first place then?” I wonder, watching Relena go into another fury where she tries to beat Quatre to death, failing like she has the last ten times she’s tried.

“You, of course. I wouldn’t dare take your well-earned right to hold that trophy.” I hop four of his pieces before ending my turn, a triumphant grin at my well-played move. It also helps that I ignore the insinuation that I’m worse than the batshit crazy bitch behind us.

“Ass,” I tease, frowning as he takes four of _my_ pieces in return. Seeing as he has double the amount of pieces on the board compared to me, those are my last pieces, and he sweeps the board clear of our makeshift Checkers game.

“Play again?”

“No time,” Heero answers for me, despite my answer having almost been, ‘Hell yeah, bring it on!’

“Aww, why not?” I whine, picking up the little red pieces and making a small pile on my side of the board. Heero sweeps his hand gently across the pile, knocking them into the trash bin waiting below, followed quickly by Wufei’s pieces as well.

“We need to start gathering data, while an interview with Ms. Peacecraft is conducted. Chang, you are to go collect baseline readings for the entire mansion, along with marking locations you believe would be suitable for camera placement. We have seven cameras on hand, so be specific and try to cover the widest area you can.”

“And what about me?”

“You’re doing the interview, of course,” Heero replies, handing me the small tape recorder. My eyes widen, pinching the recording device as if it were a month-old rotting corpse in my hand instead.

“You want me... to talk to _her_.” I try to make it a question, but it comes out much too flat. Heero’s glare has me standing and moving towards crazy and crazier, secretly glad Trowa (the real one) isn’t here with them.

Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him at all since I learned they were supposed to stay here too. Or before that, either. I haven’t seen him since he dropped that envelope off at my desk and saved my poor frog. And I want it to stay that way, honestly.

“So I have’ta ask you some shit, and you have’ta tell me the truth. We clear?” I say as I set the recorder down. Relena blinks, thrown off at my blunt introduction. Maybe she’s used to a bit more finesse than what I offer, since I don’t believe finesse is healthy for my brain.

Suddenly, I’m looking forward to this interview. Hopefully, if all goes well, it will even be my last one.

* * *

 

I should have known my good luck wouldn’t last. I settle down on a folding cot Heero purchased specifically for my use on cases needing my ‘special talents,’ planning on catching a nap before taking my turn at the computer. But then I have to have what Heero’s taken to calling an ‘episode.’

I wake up to Heero pinning me down again, and it takes a few seconds for me to reach a logical reason why he would need to do this. Of course, the first couple ideas are easily tossed to the wayside, the mental image just not fitting with the anally retentive boss I’ve come to know in the office. Sleep’s still hovering over my senses though, as when I try to speak it comes out in a strong slur.

“Whaz’doin it’gain?”

“Yes. No new damage caused, but a couple older wounds reopened before I reached you.” I sigh, shifting onto my side. Heero moves off of me, settling down next to me to rebandage the cuts that I swear to God are never going away. Not at this rate.

“M’tired,” I mumble, closing my eyes and just feeling Heero’s light touch. His nimble fingers are able to quickly secure the bleeding with practiced efficiency, taking up the least amount of bandages and gauze possible. Freakin’ crazy how he manages it, because I try to fix myself up and end up looking like I could move into the mummy display at the museum and be right at home.

“You need to get up. Come,” he says, and I protest as he pulls me to my feet. I wobble, and the only reason I don’t fall back onto my bed is because Heero’s still holding me upright. He also forces me to walk over to the empty chair next to the one he must have been using, and I sit down, sprawling as much as I can on the folding plastic monstrosity.

Heero sits down as well, lowering the seat of his much-nicer padded swivel chair. It doesn’t have any armrests, but he never uses them even when they’re on, so it makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is Heero pushing my shoulders down, causing me to fall against him.

“Sleep some more. I’ll wake you if I need to.”

I don’t argue, quickly taking advantage of the rare opportunity. Curling up into a ball, I use his leg as a pillow, my braid draping across the span of his lap as my arms move to hug my body. My legs are flat on the floor, mainly from a lack of anywhere else to put them.

It might sound uncomfortable to you, but to me it’s rather nice. I’ve slept in worse places, in worse positions, with worse people. I think I can stand the pain that I’ll get from sleeping in a chair.

* * *

 

“--haven’t found anything that would cause her to be possessed.”

“Both her parents, biological and adopted, have passed on. What is the possibility of one of them being the cause?”

“So far, they’re the only people who come to mind. But the resulting behaviour when she is under control of the spirit leads me to doubt it.”

“The spirit does behave irrationally. Have you noticed any reaction from Duo while she is actively possessed?”

“Nothing like the last case he went on. Light itching, but not gouging his flesh out.”

“So that could mean that the intent of the possessor isn’t malicious.”

“You believe that to be the reason behind the changes in intensity? Malice?”

“So far I have no other evidence to suggest otherwise. It’s confusing enough as it is.”

“You’n me both, kiddos,” I mumble, sitting up with a groan. Wufei jumps, apparently not having known that I was awake. Heero did though, it seems, as he helps me sit upright.

“Oww, sleeping in chairs isn’t the best idea, Jesus,” I moan, rubbing my back where it cramped during my sleep. Wufei snorts, muttering something too low for me to hear, but with the mood he seems to be in, that’s probably for the best; I lack the restraint to hold back any comments, which I probably _should_ keep to myself right now.

“So,” I start, pausing to yawn again. I hate waking up, then immediately having to do something. I like my thirty-minute routine of working off the buzz and reaching full functioning potential, though I’m missing the buzz part. In more ways than one... Remembering I’m in the middle of speaking, I detour back to my question. “Anything happen I need to know about?”

“Nothing worth mentioning. You may review the footage if you wish, but Ms. Peacecraft merely displayed mild possession-induced behaviours, which even then only extended to her wandering the mansion and moving several objects. Your interview was much more exciting,” Heero intones, and I swear to every god I know I hear humour right then. I don’t call him on it though, seeing as I’m still half-draped over him and I would rather _not_ be shoved to the floor at this point. Not for another ten minutes, at least.

“What are you gonna do ‘bout it then, Boss?” Heero frowns briefly, but his face goes impassively blank (or back to his normal way of looking, if you want to be real about it) as he gives me an answer.

“You’re going to assist in Ms. Peacecraft’s needs. I would suggest you go start immediately, so that you don’t lose her somewhere.”

* * *

 

I understand why Heero wants someone with Relena 24/7 right now. I really do. I just don’t get why it has to be _me_ who has to do it. Why can’t he? Or hell, sic Wufei on her, and whatever the fuck’s possessing her will flee to the afterlife to just get some peace.

Maybe that’s what Heero’s trying to do. He says I’m capable of that, or at least he does when he thinks that my body would also look good six feet under, in an unmarked grave in the middle of the woods.

“Duo! Where is my wallet?” Relena calls from the next room, and I sigh, making no move to get up and look. I might have to assist to her needs, but I’ve been given specific instructions to not provide a few things. A way to escape and cash are two of them. The third had me decking Wufei, so I won’t mention it right now.

“It’s with Quatre,” I call back, a little malicious seed blooming in my mind. If she wants to get pissed for having all access to freedom cut off, who better to point the aftermath at than the dick who made us come here in the first place?

“Oh, fine! Where’s _your_ wallet?”

“I don’t _have_ one!” Relena’s head peers around the doorframe, her eyes wide as if I’d told her we really live on Mars, and the world is just an illusion.

“How can you not have a wallet?! Where do you keep your money? Your cards? Your... your... pictures?!” The unadulterated horror in her voice is enough to send me into fits of laughter, which don’t help her mood whatsoever.

“I’m serious! You can’t be so uncouth as to just shove it willy-nilly into your pants pocket, can you?”

“Hon, listen,” I laugh, a bit breathless, “I don’t _have_ cash to put in a wallet, I _have_ no cards of any kind - not even birthday ones - and I don’t _have_ any pictures.” Which isn’t really true, but I don’t have any on me right now. That’s true enough. She just doesn’t need to know that.

“How do you _live_ without money?” She acts like my world is impossible, but I know she’s just used to having what she needs and wants on hand for her. Well, if I have to stick around and be her... ‘butler’ for lack of a better word, that leaves plenty of time to desensitize her, doesn’t it?

“I live in an apartment complex for people who don’t have the cash or ability to live anywhere else,” I tell her, moving to follow her as she wanders into the hallway, her face going slack. Great, she’s possessed again. I turn my mic on for only a moment, tapping the mouthpiece before dropping my signal. This is the tenth time I’ve done this today, and I’ve only been at it for two hours.

“So what do you do for fun? It seems pretty boring around here,” I muse, looking at a rather odd painting of a partially nude centaur woman. Relena’s possessor doesn’t answer, merely wandering further down the hall, her (its?) fingers trailing lightly against the wall. She’s humming softly, almost sounding like she’s singing a nursery rhyme, though the tune’s not quite the same.

“What are you looking for?” I ask again, and Relena’s body turns to look at me, her blank stare not showing me anything more than glazed sky-blue eyes.

“Can you at least answer me that?” I press, now that I have the thing’s attention. “I can help you look for it. I’m good at finding things that aren’t easy to find.”

Relena’s body smiles softly, holding out her hand to me. I reach out and grab it, lacing my fingers with hers.

“Lead the way,” I tell her.

We wander the hallways, her eyes always fixed slightly to her left as her fingers trail against the right wall. I have yet to get her to speak, but I’m not calling it quits.

“Did you lose something?”

She nods, tapping the wall. I examine it, then look once more at the back of her very blonde head.

“Is there something in the walls, something you didn’t find when you were alive?”

She stops, turning to face me. I panic slightly at the sight of the tear-filled stare, a drop of liquid spilling over the edge to make a transparent trail down to her quivering lips. I reach forward, brushing the tear away gently.

“You need to find something, who is it for? Can you talk to me?”

“Legacy,” she whispers, her voice choked. “His legacy. Her legacy. Their legacy. My legacy.”

“Are you Serena Peacecraft?” I ask gently, pulling her closer. She nods, blinking in shock. More tears escape her eyes, and I let them fall. If I keep sweeping them away, my hands will never stop moving. “Where is your children’s legacy?”

“Away. Safe. Lost.”

“Calm down,” I soothe, and flinch as I suddenly find myself with an armful of sobbing-possessed-woman. I awkwardly pat her back, making shushing noises.

“We’ll find your legacy, Serena,” I promise, a warm weight forming in my stomach as I do so. “We need to, for your daughter’s sake. You know what your presence is doing to her. You need to be able to move on, to let her be free of this power.”

“Can’t. Trapped. Finding her legacy.”

“I understand. So let’s get looking. Is it on this floor? You keep walking this floor, so is it here?”

She nods, moving out of my hold and grasping my hand again. I let her lead me, searching for her ‘Legacy’ or whatever that means.

* * *

 

“So we know who, we know why, we know what, but we don’t know where or how,” Wufei muses, tapping his pencil against the sheet. My own pen is between my teeth, the plastic case wearing away the more I bite it. Heero’s just reclining in his chair, arms crossed and his thinking-face on (which isn’t that different from any of his other ‘faces’ if you must know).

“Well, whatever it is it’s enough to keep her trapped here until she finds it. So it’s not just any old thing, like money or jewels,” I say, worrying my teeth on my pen. The tip drags lightly across the paper, making light swirls to add to the many already present from earlier.

“Why do you say that?” Ah, the ever eloquent Yuy.

“Well, ‘Lena and her bro are fuckin’ rich as shit. They couldn’t spend it all in their lifetimes if they tried to. If Serena wants to find their ‘Legacy’ so badly that she stayed beyond death to search for it, you think it would involve wealth?” I point out, sarcasm lacing my words rather thickly.

“So you think it’s something more priceless, something that can’t be lost as easily.”

“Well, these are the last two Peacecrafts alive, I imagine whatever she lost is probably an heirloom or crest, or even a history. Something that couldn’t be replaced.”

“That’s why she keeps moving objects,” Wufei adds, apparently deciding I’m actually making sense. I’m glad someone does, because I think I’ve made most of this up.

“So we’re going on a treasure hunt?” I quip, clapping my hands together. Heero and Wufei exchange a look, Wufei raising an eyebrow while Heero nods in return.

“Yes, we _are_ going on a treasure hunt.”

* * *

 

“Isn’t this a lovely dress? Millie picked it out for me when he was in Paris last summer,” Relena gushes, spinning around in a circle to show me the rather blinding fabric. I never knew fabric could be so... shiny.

“I guess. I’ve never been one for dresses, so I’ll take your word,” I grumble, curling up more on the edge of the floral sofa. The frill-drenched pillows are all piled on the other side, as far away as Relena will let me put them from my person.

“Oh, stop pouting. So you can’t go treasure hunting? Get over it, you get to be with me instead. That’s much more fun than rummaging through filthy rooms for garbage,” she sighs, a bit too dramatically for my taste.

“They’re looking for it because of _you_ and your mother. I don’t like _you_ , so let’s just leave it at that,” I remind her, and she just smiles.

“I know, I’ve heard it the first hundred times you’ve told me.”

I can’t help but grin back. For being a spoiled, stuck-up bint, she’s rather amusing.

“So who is this mysterious, nameless brother of yours?” I ask, boredom taking over my mouth again. I would rather not talk to her, but I’d rather not stare too long at the disturbing portrait of humans posing as flowers inside of a vase of blood. A rather violent piece for a family named _Peacecraft_ , I think.

“Oh, Millie. Sir Milliardo Peacecraft, if you wish to be so formal. But you abhor any sense of formality, so you can call him Millie. Or Eeyore, but he rather doesn’t like that one. Here, here’s a picture I have of him from his last visit. He just came back from China when we took this,” Relena rambles, pulling down a frame from the multitude of them along her dresser. Handing me the jewel-covered metal, I look at the picture.

The man who looks back at me is not the man I expected to see. Tall, I can see as he stands next to Relena, and thin, pale skin with even paler hair. The length could almost rival mine, but it’s let loose down his back, and he’s wearing jeans and a polo shirt (worst shirt in existence). Despite Relena being dressed in a stuffily formal summer dress, he doesn’t look out of place amongst the extravagant backdrop. And sporting a smirk I’ve seen too often for my comfort.

“Zechs?” I mumble, tilting the frame as if it would suddenly show me someone different.

Nope, same bastard who frequented Spineless’ shop weekly. Without the headgear though, finally letting me solve the riddle I’ve spent the last few years trying to figure out: what his face looks like.

“Did you say something?” Relena asks, not having heard me. I shake my head, handing the picture back to her with a smile that could make babies cry.

As she putters around her room doing God-knows-what, I can’t help but think of how small of a world we really live in.

* * *

 

“It’s not an heirloom,” I announce, dropping into the chair next to Heero. He glances over at me, but doesn’t say a word. I take that as permission to keep talking.

“I’m thinking we’re looking for papers, documents, _history_ , and it’s not for both of the siblings,” I continue, my brain moving much faster than my lips. The shock of learning a little more than I ever wanted to know is starting to wear off, though I’m still very edgy about sleeping in a crime lord’s home.

And hanging out with said crime lord’s baby sister, which honestly would get me killed faster than sleeping in his house. Or even robbing it, though I might put back the few fancies that caught my eye...

“It’s for Milliardo Peacecraft, his mother knows what he’s doing, and wants to do something for him so badly, she can’t pass on. I don’t know what the fuck she’s trying to find, or hoping to fix. You don’t just vanish from the Underground on a _whim_.”

“Milliardo Peacecraft is involved with crime?”

“He _is_ a crime, Heero, a _lord_ of it to be exact. Also known in that crowd as Zechs Merquise, and often seen conspiring with the Khushrenada or Catalonia organizations. Rather mild-mannered for a lord, to be truthful. I dealt with him regularly when working for Spineless.”

“So you think her motivation for existing beyond death is due to her son’s lifestyle?”

“I would think so, but she insists that she’s looking for _their_ legacy, so that can’t be the whole picture, can it?”

“No, but it doesn’t mean they are not related,” Heero muses, taking my words and considering them seriously. I’m just glad I’ve finally met someone who _does_ take my thoughts seriously. Wufei doesn’t, that’s for sure!

Later, when we run it by him, he comes up with a possibility that floors me. I wonder why I couldn’t connect the two dots, but Wufei sees it and points it out.

“What if she’s trying to _save_ the Peacecraft legacy by ending Milliardo’s criminal activity? Saving the honest name from being tainted by the acts of the heir.”

“So she’s dead-set on saving her kids’ futures, by giving away Zechs Merquise?”

“It makes sense,” Heero muses, shuffling papers on the table. His laptop is closed, a rare sight when Heero’s nearby, and large maps cover the table with little papers scattered over _those_. It reminds me of the nightmare I walked into on my first day of working with them, so I keep my eyes fixated on yet another weird painting hanging in the mansion. I’ve yet to figure out just what the goat’s doing to the baby, and I’m on a mission to solve that.

“So Zechs--”

“Milliardo,” Wufei corrects, and I sneer at him.

“ _Zechs_ has some of his... er... _side business_ stashed somewhere in the house, or something that’s ‘posed t’remind him of his real work... or... or... I don’t know!”

“Why Duo, you sound _scared_ ,” Wufei teases, and I just give him a flat look.

“I like living. It’s quite nice, you know. I don’t know about you, but rifling through the home of a very successful Underground Crime Lord _isn’t_ a good way to keep doing that, the living thing? Yeah, it’s actually a very _quick_ way to end up six feet under or having your feet cemented and then being chucked into a lake or off a bridge--”

“Okay, I get it,” Wufei cuts in, his face looking a little green.

“If you think that’s bad, wait until he finds out we’ve been gettin’ friendly with his baby sis.”

“Actually, Duo, technically you’re the only one who’s interacted with Relena Darlian-Peacecraft,” Heero reminds me, and I glare at him.

“Gee, thanks buddy, that makes me feel _so_ much better ‘bout it.”

* * *

 

I walk silently down the third-floor corridor, my hands ghosting against the walls as I do yet another search for whatever Serena’s looking for. Having done this kind of thing before, but with less honorable intentions involved, I have a clue of what I should be feeling for in the walls; the differences between support, plumbing, and solid metal wall-vaults. Hell, I pride myself in being able to find hidden _rooms_.

Let’s not get into _that_ story right now, I have other things to be doing.

“Here, thingy-that-I’m-looking-for,” I sing out softly, rapping my knuckles against the horrific wallpaper. Hollow sound, which means it’s just empty wall. Nothing fun there.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I keep singing, moving forward and rapping. Solid, but the resounding echo shows it’s just a wooden support beam. Better to leave those alone.

“Do you believe it will answer you?” I hear a soft voice ask me, and I spin around, my knife sliding cleanly into my grip. A sense of deja vu overwhelms me, as Trowa and I face off in a frighteningly familiar position. Is he _trying_ to get me to stab him?

“Oh, it’s you. I wondered where you slithered off to,” I mock, putting my knife away, but not out of reach. Trowa just chuckles, the bastard moving closer. I don’t back off, despite my legs begging to move the other way.

“Oh, I’ve had my own share of work to do, nothing as... exciting as yours, I imagine.” The creep keeps moving closer, and damn my pride for taking on the challenge. Damn it to hell.

“Oh yes, because hanging out with a psychotic possessed lady is a bundle of fun. They should sell them in pairs for discount pricing,” I drawl, crossing my arms. I try to make it look threatening, instead of defensive, but the smirk that crosses that shadowed face makes me wonder if I did a good enough job.

I’m looking up at him now, as he places both of his arms on either side of my head, leaning closer to me. I gulp, my pride vanishing into a hole and my back pressing itself as much as it can into the wall. “I can’t see that selling so well, there’d be an overflow of returns.”

“Can I send this one back then?” I whisper, and Trowa chuckles.

“Here, come with me and I’ll show you.”

He backs off, my breath returning as he moves out of my airspace. I follow him down the dark hallway, and we stop in front of the most... sane picture I’ve encountered so far. It’s of a young girl, her light blonde hair twisted up above her head and her brilliant blue eyes staring off to the side of the canvas, as if watching someone on her left. The only remotely disturbing thing about this picture is that she has no mouth or nose. At all. Trowa presses his hand against the side of the frame, and the wall shifts inward. He hands me a flashlight, flicking his own on, and we move into the newly discovered space.

It turns out to be a room, _the_ room we’ve been looking for. And this insufferable _dickwad_ had to be the one to show it to me. I could have found it _myself!_ Eventually... maybe... but I _would_ have!

The first thing I notice the room has inside of it is dust. Lots and lots of dust. I lift the collar of my shirt to hide my nose and mouth, tucking my braid safely away down the back, and moving over to examine the walls.

“Bingo,” I whisper, shining my light over several papers and photographs. Zechs was the star of many of them, though were were plenty enough of Relena, her parents, and her adopted parents. Other people I don’t know are in them, either with Relena or Zechs, and some look a bit on the shady side of things.

The papers prove even more interesting. Reports, newspaper clippings, statements, bills, and letters piled side by side, yellowed and dusted with age. I carefully refrain from touching anything, instead looking at my silent companion.

“How did you find this?” I ask, though I think it comes off as more of a demand. He tilts his head, the smugness radiating from him enough to make me choke.

“I have my trade secrets,” he answers, which isn’t much of an answer at all. Oh hell, who the fuck am I kidding? That was no answer whatsoever!

“How about I shove _my_ trade secret--”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were into that line of work,” Trowa taunts, and I flush brilliantly. Oh sure, I have to wind up with the pervert. Great job, Maxwell.

“L-Let’s get the others up here t-to look at this,” I stumble, trying to save face (and failing horribly) from my obvious verbal blunder. The smirk still darkly lining his face shows me that my change of subject was poorly executed.

I’m losing my touch, and I blame Wufei. He’s making me go soft from being too easily provoked. Not to mention he never fights back. I’ll need to practice more with Heero.

* * *

 

“I’m outta here,” I announce, slinging my still-packed bag over my shoulder. Heero’s eyes snap towards me, blank and uninterested.

“Have fun, it will be quite a walk,” he says, though his eyes don’t leave mine.

“Zechs’ gonna be back t’night. I’m not hangin’ ‘round for that,” I continue, unable to hide the panicky note that’s taking over my voice.

“It’s a three-day walk,” Heero reminds me, and I grimace.

“I’ll live, unlike if I stay here,” I snap, and Heero sighs, standing up from his desk-slash-table. Wufei’s examining the room of goodies we uncovered, and it makes it easier to do this. I can’t fight both of them off, not with their obtuseness overwhelming me.

“You think walking back, on foot, with no provisions or funds and only having the clothes on your back is smarter than dealing with a man you’ve claimed is ‘mild-mannered.’”

“Yeah, mild-mannered until you fuck with his shit, and I’m pretty sure it’s worse for fuckin’ playing nice with his little sissy,” I shoot back, and Heero shakes his head.

“You aren’t going.”

“And who says?” I demand, and the icy cold-blue gaze gives me a clear enough answer, Heero’s words emphasizing it.

“I do. Now sit your ass down and make yourself useful.”

I feel my legs give out, so I end up sitting much against my will, my hands bracing me on the small cot. Heero moves closer, and I have no problems with my pride this time, leaning as far away from my furious employer as I physically can. He is close enough that I can smell the bodywash he used this morning, and I know that scent very well as it’s my own, damn thief.

“If any problems result from our being here, remember that Quatre Winner was the one who hired us. Any problems are to be directed to him. There will be no reason for Milliardo Peacecraft to be angry with you, as you are doing the job requested of you. So just _relax_ and get back to work.”

I give a shaky smile, and Heero seems satisfied I’ve gotten the message. He moves off of me (when did he get on the cot, let alone above me?) and back to his computer, though it takes me quite a bit longer to get my body to respond to my demand to ‘get up off my ass and do something besides sit here like a fool.’

* * *

 

I honestly never expected to find something like this here, but up in the dusty attic where Relena (Or is it Serena? It’s getting harder to tell.) insists on spending her afternoon I come across the little, innocent-looking scribble.

“God fucking damn it all to--”

“What is it, Duo?” Relena (Serena?) asks, moving to my side. I stand, shooting her a brilliant(ly fake) smile.

“It’s nothing, just forget it,” I tell her, moving further into the attic and trying to shove my discovery aside. I can ponder it later, when I’m not playing babysitter to a girl with a deadly brother who is coming home later tonight.

And tonight seems to be coming much too fast for my tastes. Heero’s had to stop me from running for the hills several times since the first attempt, finally assigning me to babysitting duty. It’s been two hours since then, and three hours until the arrival of Zechs Merquise, which I wouldn’t mind learning he wrecked, or his flight crashed... Hell, I’ll take a delay at this point.

Maybe if I’m lucky, I won’t even have to see him. This is a rather fuckin’ huge mansion, I can hide up here in the creepy, dusty, attic for the rest of our time here, can’t I?

“Relena, Duo!” I turn to the stairs, Quatre’s rather blond head poking out of the opening. Relena waves cheerfully (showing that it is no longer Serena, as she just ignores him), and I take up the now-absent Serena’s role in ignoring the dick who caused me to be present.

“Relena, your brother will be arriving soon, why don’t you go get ready? Oh, and Heero wants to see you, Duo.” Relena runs over to the stairs, following Quatre while bodily clinging to his arm. I wait several moments, making no move to depart. Once I’m positive they’re far enough away, I go back to look at the drawing I found hidden on the wall.

“How is it I always get these fuckin’ cases?” I muse, letting the painting that had been hiding it go back to doing so. Well, better go report in before Wufei comes to drag my ass there anyways.

* * *

 

“I will be meeting with Lord Peacecraft to discuss our reasons for being here. Wufei, keep an eye on the equipment while Duo rests.”

Heero’s rather calm for his impending doom, I muse to myself as I get comfy on the cot. I’m assigned to bed duty since I avoided sleeping too long for Heero’s tastes, despite my brilliant argument about having an intense desire to keep the remaining skin I have left on my body right where it is. Wufei hadn’t been much help in that fight, picking Heero’s side and telling me to get some sleep.

So here I am. About to go to dreamland and be defenseless while The Lord-of-Many-Things is coming home and likely to be pissed. Yeah, I can tell I’m going to sleep well tonight.

But despite all my arguments to both the guys and myself, I fall asleep quickly. The dreams aren’t peaceful though, red and screams colouring my landscape into a dark and twisted world. As it fades to black though, only a single image remains, burning brightly against the void.

 _What_.

I gasp audibly as I sit up, the image still vividly clear in my mind’s eye. Flinging my covers off (when did those get there?), I stumble to my feet, tripping over the edge of the cot and landing on my knees. With shaky arms, I push myself back up, running down the hallway. My mind feels numb, and the world is hazy, but I know where I need to go.

It doesn’t take me long to get up to the third floor, quickly finding the picture of the girl with no face. Her eyes are gone now, but I don’t take the time to question the oddity as I slam my entire weight against the frame, the wall swinging inwards and depositing me on the filthy floor once more.

The room looks just like the first time I saw it; papers, trinkets, and photos spread along shelves lining the walls. Someone must have put a light in here since then, as I can see the room clearly without a flashlight. I take no caution in pushing the papers and treasures to the floor, my fingers feeling along the back of the shelves for something I’m not quite sure of. Finding an indent in the back, I loop my fingers around it and pull, falling flat on my ass and coming out of my daze. That’s when I realize I’m not in here by myself.

“--sessed, it seems.”

I feel my body trembling, even though I don’t feel very cold; I’m more numb than anything else. A hand drops into my line of sight, and before I think about it, my own hand’s grasping the one I see. Being pulled to my feet, I turn around without thinking, my eyes moving of their own accord.

 _‘Calm down, Duo. I’m almost done,’_ I hear a feminine voice whisper across my thoughts, and I feel my own panic pressing back at it.

_‘Get out! This is my head!’_

_‘I can’t stay in my daughter any longer, I need your help. Please, let me do what I’ve been needing to do.’_

I relent, not having the energy or strength to push back against who is surely Serena Peacecraft. My movements aren’t as jerky now, and the shaking’s stopped.

“Milliardo,” my lips move, my voice coming out despite not being the person speaking. It’s hard to resist the temptation to fight back, to regain control over my body, but I’d rather get Serena off this plane and out of my life as quickly as possible.

“Please, Milliardo, my child. Stop this, take care of your sister. Help her, she needs you. You two are the last. Don’t follow your father’s footsteps. Forge your own, make your own marks in history.”

“Mother,” I hear, though the world seems to be getting darker. I can’t see anymore, and I feel like my head’s shoved underwater. I focus on my breathing, though I couldn’t tell you if it’s _me_ or Serena who’s doing _that_ either. I’m not trying very hard to figure it out.

Memories flash through my mind, some being my own with Solo, and many being Serena’s. I watch as she meets Jean-Luc and marries the guy. I watch as she despairs as her husband sinks his fingers into shadier and shadier work. I watch as she tries to keep her two children separated from their father’s work. I watch as her (...our?) best friend, Laura, takes our daughter in as her own. I watch as our husband’s ‘business partner’ takes our son away, his small fingers slipping from our bloody grasp. I watch the haze of death settle over us. I watch us die.

_‘Thank you, Duo.’_

I open my eyes, blackness surrounding me except for the brilliantly white outline of Serena.

“You look like an angel,” I murmur, reaching out to touch her. Her skin is cool against my fingers, and she smiles down at me. Or is it across? There’s no up or down here, in this void where only we exist.

“Thank you,” she repeats, cradling my face. “I could never have done this without you.”

“No problem. Will Relena recover now that you’re not living in her anymore?” I ask, feeling worried about our daughter. The smile I receive with her nod gives me relief, an answer more than her words provide.

“Yes, it might take a while, but the effects of my possession will fade. She’s really a smart girl, as you were able to see.”

“She is,” I agree, and Serena leans forward, the glow from her body fading. I notice my hand is starting to sink into her, her skin going transparent and fading from my sight. Right before she leaves my black existence, I feel the press of her lips against mine.

_‘Thank you.’_

* * *

 

It’s like floating to the surface. The black void becoming lighter as I rise back towards reality, as if I’m living in a giant world of water. I can feel my ‘face’ break the surface, light overtaking my senses and air rushing into my lungs. There’s a nauseating buzz filling my ears, and I feel the bile rising in my throat. I’m rolled onto my side as it finally reaches my mouth, and I vomit onto the floor. The world’s moving into perception now, and the noise muffling down into a more tolerable and understandable level.

“Are you okay?” I hear someone asking, a voice I know more from memory than experience. I look up into Relena’s face, hovering worriedly over my own.

Deja vu bites me on the ass, and I wonder if she’ll kiss me like her mother did. I push the thought away, instead nodding.

“Wha’ happen?” I mumble, my mouth feeling like I went and tried to eat a sheep. It’s actually a rather accurate comparison, as I’ve done it once. It’s not as much fun as it seems, believe me, especially when it’s trying to bite back. My thoughts are pulled back as Heero’s face replaces Relena’s.

“You were possessed.”

“Yeah, Serena,” I nod, and Heero frowns.

“Is she gone?”

“Mmm, went ‘way,” I tell him, “finished her job.”

“Can you move?”

“Dunno. Can I?” I hear Wufei’s laughter somewhere out of my sight.

“Well, his brain’s back to normal levels.”

I flex my fingers, then my toes, feeling the tingling of numb limbs reawakening. I stretch my legs, and use my arms to shakily lift myself into a sitting position, where I now can see the rest of room; along with the rest of the people present. Many more than I remember being with Serena.

Heero, Relena, Wufei. I knew they were here. I also see Quatre, and Zechs next to him. I feel a hand on my back, helping me stay upright, and by doing process of elimination, it can only be Trowa.

“S’ what’s the party ‘bout? Surprise?” I ask, blinking tiredly. Relena giggles, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Quatre quirks a grin, and Zechs shakes his head. Wufei’s doing something rather akin to Zechs, but with much more misery mixed in. Heero doesn’t do anything, instead staring creepily into my eyes.

“There might be some side effects from Serena Peacecraft being with you, because you had to be an idiot and allow her to take over to the extent she did. Are there any confusing or illogical thoughts present, or knowledge that does not belong to you?”

“Kinda,” I mutter, flushing. I know it’s not true, but I still _feel_ it. I just hope it goes away soon, because it’s going to send me into an identity crisis pretty quickly if it doesn’t.

“Elaborate.”

“No.” I turn my face away, eyes glancing across the room to Relena. She’s watching curiously, probably wondering what her mother left with me. Zechs seems to be watching me for the same reason. I can feel myself relaxing as I watch them, and I hear Heero sigh.

“I said, _elaborate_. I need to record the extent of the damage caused.”

I groan, knowing he won’t just drop it. But trying to save even a little face at this point, I motion for him to come closer. Hell, if he wants to know, I don’t want everyone else to. He seems to catch on to what I’m asking, as he lets me whisper into his ear.

“I feel like I’m their _mother_ , okay? Just drop it!”

“I will let it rest for now, but I will require more details once we are back at the office,” he agrees, giving in much faster than I thought he would. I hear chuckling behind me, and dread fills my chest.

Fuck, I forgot that the dickhead’s still behind me.

* * *

 

It’s nice to be back in the office, I muse as I set up the picture of Relena and Zechs on my desk. As much fun as traipsing around a giant mansion is, I was beginning to miss my dear Betty in all her green and leafy glory. Pouring my bottle of water into her pot, I croon sweet words of nothing to her in an attempt to appease her.

“Is he going to do this to everything now?” I hear Wufei ask Heero, and I glare back over my shoulder at him.

“She was lonely and you ignored her when you came in! I had to make her feel better.”

“If the plant could feel anything in the first place, I’d be worried,” Wufei snaps, and I grin.

“Oh, she feels a lot. So next time you’re fondling her, remember that.”

“I don’t _fondle the plant!”_ he screeches, throwing his water bottle at me. I snatch it out of the air, wiggling it back and forth mockingly.

“Molest then. Stop molesting Betty if you don’t feel anything for her,” I scold, popping the lid off and adding his water to the dirt.

“Says the mother with two children older than him,” Wufei growls, and I chuck the empty plastic bottle back at him, smacking his head with a loud ‘thud.’ I follow the first quickly with a second one.

“It’s a side effect! Leave the kids out of it!”

We spend the rest of our day teasing back and forth, and as we close the office up, I put my Sharpie back in the drawer, sliding the glass back into the frame and grinning at my handiwork. I leave the frame on the desk, face up for the world to see (or at least, Heero and Wufei when they come in tomorrow).

On the paper stating my credentials, _Paranormal Tracking Specialist_ is scribbled out, my own handwriting putting in my real title under it.

_Ghost Radar._


	4. Case 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Duo schools Wufei, gets drunk off his ass, schooled by Heero, and communes with a child.

“Active markings can’t be broken’s simply,” I explain, tracing my finger around one of the pictures. “Bad shit can happen, dependin’ what it’s ‘poseta do in th’firs’ place.”

“You broke the one in Lady Winner’s home with no repercussions,” Wufei points out, and I shrug.

“It don’t have no power  t’it. Th’only ‘repercussion’ I had was a fuckin’ headache.  Breakin’ somethin’ like tha’ thing in Relena’s attic would prob’ly be worse, ‘specially since I can’t _see_ a point’n doin’ somethin’ so… childish.”

“Could Ms. Darlian have done it in one of her less… lucid moments?” Wufei hedges, trying to be polite in his mentioning of my—no, of Serena’s daughter.  It’s still hard to separate my own feelings from hers, since we merged too closely for Heero’s liking.  It had been a source of teasing for Chang, but after I broke down crying about how cruel he was being to my kids, he backed off. A lot. I wonder how much of that had to do with it annoying Heero.

“That’s a good thought,” I admit, though I know that’s not what happened. The marking in the attic was before Relena was possessed by Serena; it was the cause of Serena’s presence. Someone wanted her there, wanted to force Zechs to change through his mother’s influence.  The pictures appearing as they did were just a side-effect of the unnatural power near them.

“Why are you so interested in it anyways?” Wufei asks, and I grin, placing a slip of paper to save the page in the book.

“For being fuckin’ freaky artwork, I kinda wanna sorta remake the effects.  I _really_ like the ‘Baby Vase’ myself. Think it’ll look good above the desk?” I wonder, framing a section of the wall between extended fingers, making Wufei shudder.  I cackle loudly.

Just another day in the office.

Sure enough, moments later Heero’s office door slams open, revealing the rather irate presence of our esteemed employer.

“While I am glad you two have finally managed to learn to get along,” he grinds out, teeth clenched, “would you _get back to work?_ ”

“ _What_ work?” I snap back, waving a hand over my empty desk. “I ran _out_ of work to do!”

“Then make some up!”

“Why don’t _you?!_ ” I slam my hands on the table, rising to my feet. I am not in the mood to deal with Heero’s pissy attitude, and I’m not afraid to let him know it.  Wufei’s hand is on my arm, trying to pull me back into my seat.

“Am I interrupting something?” I hear a familiar voice ask, amusement evident in his voice.  I spin around, giving a dark glare at the smirking Trowa-fucking-Barton, before flipping him off and shoving past him.  I grab my jacket, heading to the door.

“I’m going home. Call me if you have any fucking work for me to do.”

I don’t go straight back to my apartment though, instead taking a long walk around the downtown area to cool my head. Regaining my temper, I finally wander back to my area of residence, exploiting a bit of finger-work and expertise to get me some grub at a food stall on the side of the road. I also pick up a 36 pack of cheap beer for the road.

Old habits die hard.

Five minutes at home has one can empty, a second halfway gone.  Fifteen minutes at home has me hauling my half-drunk ass back to the office, an overnight bag slung over my shoulder, as apparently Heero found work for me to do.

Bastard.

I get to the office with little problem – I am rather talented with drunk mobility – and maneuver the stairs and door with no problems.  Once I’m inside though, I stumble noticeably.  The main culprit for my sudden lurch of reality is the bag that someone messily left in front of the door. The second culprit is the hand that grabs my chin, tilting my face up and into a much-too-bright light.

“Not even an hour,” Heero mutters, dropping my face.  I fall against him, using him as leverage to get back upright.  He seems to ignore his sudden promotion to a wall, instead reaching onto my desk and grabbing a mug.

“Ye’ y’kneeeew I’s b’drun….” I drawl, stumbling again as he moves away from me. I’m an expert at walking around drunk. Not so much at talking, obviously. It’s always my giveaway.

“Given that you tend to keep a steady pattern of behavior, I figure when you left, you did not immediately head home; instead, you borrowed funds to obtain a meal and low-quality alcohol before heading home, where a quarter-hour passed before I informed you to reach the office. This left you fifteen minutes since the time the alcohol was purchased and the time of the phone call for you to consume twelve cans out of the thirty-six you prefer to purchase.”  I stare dumbly at Heero, my brain scrambling to catch up and translate his speech into something that actually makes sense.

“Arr’ya stalkin’ me?” I wonder aloud, staring at the man like he holds the answer to the universe. He snorts, pressing the mug into my hands.

“As I said, you have a habit of repetitive destructive behavior. Stalking you is unnecessary.”

“Bu’m s’in’resss’n,” I whine, choking as Heero lifts my hands and forces some of the vile liquid into my mouth. I try to spit it back out, but he holds his hands over my mouth, plugging my nose while he’s at it.  While I struggle to free myself from the fool who’s trying to _kill_ me, Wufei walks past and picks up the bag.

“Make sure he drinks it all. It will detox his system quickly, leaving him mostly sober by the time we reach our destination.”

“My pleasure,” Heero responds, and Wufei walks away, muttering under his breath. Not quietly enough though, because I catch his words quite well despite my struggle to survive.

“Sadistic bastard.”

* * *

 

“I hate you,” I grumble from my spot in the back seat. I’m curled up in a ball, my arms clutching my stomach miserably.  I’m pretty sure that Wufei’s hitting each and every pothole on the way up the mountain, the asshole.  I’m sure Heero’s pointing them out, sadistic bastard. I’m sure they also made all the fucking birds shriek at the top of their little fucking lungs.

Fuckers. All of them!

The assholes up front just ignore my accusations. It doesn’t stop me from giving them though. Oh no, if I have to suffer, so do they. At one point, Wufei asked Heero if they should just push me out of the car and down the cliff to the side of us, but Heero vetoed that idea.

“I’d have to do the paperwork.”

I’m not sure if he meant the paperwork for my death, or the paperwork back at the office that Heero and Wufei happily dump on me. Probably both. Asshole.

By the time we actually reach the mountain-top-residence, I’m over the worst of the hangover and in a much better mood. So I get out of the car, enjoying the view for a few moments before helping bring in boxes.

“Feeling better?” Heero asks, handing me a box. I nod, rubbing at my eyes.

“Headache, but sober.  Y’know I wasn’ plannin’ on goin’ back in t’day, tha’s why I drank…”

“I assumed that when you left.  However, Trowa Barton had brought work for us to do, via Quatre Winner’s connections.”

“Oh. I forgot he was there,” I muse, trying to keep my speech from slurring. The alcohol still in my system isn’t helping me, but my slurred speech annoys Heero and Wufei if I let it degrade too much.

“I assumed that much.”

“Y’know, you assume a lot. Assuming only makes an ass out of you and me,” I remind him, using the old rhyme to prove my point. Heero shakes his head.

“I fare well when I assume. You tend to turn out being the ass in the situation.”

“Gee, buddy, you’re so kind. I think an ice chip just broke off my heart,” I note, my voice flat. A pen smacks the side of my head in retaliation.

“You have a heart? I didn’t realize that,” Wufei comments, setting down his own box. So far, I haven’t seen the owners of the place, making me wonder if it’s been abandoned. I give a small sniff, frowning.

“I have a heart! It’s just misplaced at the moment, taking a vacation, on hiatus, hiding…” I trail off, my eyes having caught a flicker of _something_ out of the corner of my vision. I try to focus on it, unsure of what it is I actually saw. A hand on my neck, fingers brushing the loose hairs that escaped my braid, a whisper in my ear helping me focus.

“Concentrate. What do you see?”

Heero’s voice is soft, soothing, and undemanding. There’s no pressure, no urgent demand to figure it out. I let myself relax, the _something_ coming back into view. For several moments, the features are unclear, but I can make out a mass of blue.

“What do you see?”

“Blue. Shit ton of blue… clothes?”

“Who’s wearing it?” Heero asks, fingers tangling in the base of my hair. I tilt my head, watching the blue clothes sway back and forth on the porch swing.

“A young girl. Little. Red hair… Just a child. So sad, she’s so young,” I mutter, leaning against Heero. My arms itch. I want to scratch them.

“Don’t scratch yourself.  How old is the girl?” I feel a caress along the back of my ear, and I tilt my head again, eyes drifting partially closed. I don’t take my eyes off of her though, still studying her intently.

“No more than eight. She’s well-fed. High-class, or upper-middle. No trash to her, well-bred.”

“Does she hurt?” A brush of air against the shell of my ear, warm and soothing. I reach out, my hand hovering over her image, blocking her from my sight.

“ _Yes_ ,” I moan, hand clenching, I can see her, as if encased in my fist. Her head appears above, her legs below. The overlapping vision feels as if I’m clutching her soul tight, though she’s not really in my grasp.

“How much?” I shudder, closing my eyes. I don’t need to watch her anymore. She’s in my head.

“So much. So much _pain_ …”

“Ssh, it’s okay. We’re going to help you.”

“Okay,” I breathe, tired and drained. I see her hopeful eyes stare back at me, and I make her a promise.

_“We will help you.”_

My mind goes blank, along with my vision. I feel Heero’s hand on me, but soon that vanishes too. I’m just tired. So tired.

I float in the void, sleeping but not. Time doesn’t matter, the vast emptiness that resides around and inside me a familiar, welcoming place. It’s like being home, back where I belong. But I can’t stay here forever. I never can. Reality is soon tingling at my senses, sounds and sensation coming together to drag me back to awareness, soon followed by a dim light growing bigger.  I wince at the harsh light before it is turned off, and a quiet whisper reaches me.

“How are you feeling?”

“’ired,” I slur, my mouth not having quite caught up with the rest of me. My lips are tingling, reminding me of the time I found out I’m allergic to Solo’s chapstick. I feel my world shifting, a cool, waxy object being pressed into my rigid fingers. I glance down at the cup of water, staring at it with a definite lack of comprehension.

“Drink it,” Heero mutters, and I tilt it up automatically. Some of the water goes into my mouth while the rest goes over my neck and shirt.

“Oops,” I mumble, patting heavily at my chest. Heero grips my hands, placing them back down at my sides.

“I apologize. I should not have let her sink so far into you. I was unprepared for the rate of synchronization between your two souls.”

“Huh?”

“You absorbed her too fast.”

“Oh. S’okay, it happens,” I tell him, managing to pull my shirt off and toss it to the side. I’m feeling much more awake now as I dig through my bag for a clean shirt. The moonlight shining through the grimy windows gives me a general sense of how long I’ve been out.

“Is this what happened with Serena? I assumed that you had prolonged contact with her, but now I am thinking otherwise,” Heero continues talking, and I snicker.

“What did I tell you? Assuming makes an ass out of you,” I tease. I have the air knocked out of my lungs as Heero lets me drop back onto the bed, standing up.

“You’ve obviously recovered. Be ready for work come morning.”

“Aye aye, boss man!” I salute, rolling onto my side and curling up. It doesn’t take long to fall back asleep, and I briefly hope to go back to the dark place I was at before waking.

* * *

 

“Good morning!”

I shoot out of bed, rolling into a crouch with my knife unsheathed. Startled blue eyes meet my own half-aware ones, and I lower my arm as I place the voice with the face.

“You’re that lying son-of-a-bitch. Winner, right?”

My insult seems to slide right over him, as he just smiles brightly at me.

“Yes. It’s been a while, Duo.”

“Not long enough,” I cheerfully counter, and the lack of reaction makes me wonder if the man’s missing several screws in his brain. Not that I’m overflowing with them _myself_ , but I can at least recognize when someone’s being an ass. Even if that person’s me.

“Heero and Wufei are down in the kitchen if you would like to join them. They have set up base there, as there are no residents to conflict with,” he continues, offering me a hand. I ignore it, standing up and sheathing my knife. I don’t lock it into the holster though, just in case.

I don’t trust him. No one’s _that_ fuckin’ cheerful when involved with the occult.

The walk down to the kitchen is filled with amiable chatter, which is more accurate if amiable means he did the talking and I pretended to listen.  I walk next to him, not willing to expose my back, but not willing to walk behind him, showing him as _better_ than me.

 _No one_ is better than me. I’m insulted to even think about it.

I’m quite content to abandon Quatre when we step through the large arch separating the kitchen from the rest of the house.  True to his word, Heero and Wufei have taken over the kitchen, making it look less like a place to cook and more like a recent drop-off of a computer store robbery.  I really hope that the doohickey hooked into the laptop was not the coffee maker at some point, or else someone is dying.

My plans to murder the evildoers is derailed by a mug being shoved into my hand, a familiar and welcoming scent fading my worries away. Ignoring the blistering heat of the ambrosia, I gulp down half the mug in my first breath, slowing down only to acknowledge the fact that delicate electronics are in my presence. I like living, thank you very much, and I am very well aware that spilling coffee on Heero’s laptop will end my life quicker than I can picture it happening.

“Do you even have blood, or did you replace it all with pure caffeine?” Wufei asks, handing me a second cup before taking the empty one away. I work through this one much more leisurely, savouring the deliciousness of the heavenly java.

If I haven’t made it clear, I’m not a morning person.  It was one of the first things Heero and Wufei learned about me. It didn’t take them long either, which gave them tons of kudo points.

My recent encounter with the little dead girl, along with the lack of wonderful coffee in my body, made me blissfully unaware of a presence I would have loved to remain blissfully unaware of.

“Life in the office must be interesting,” Barton comments, and it takes all of my expert beer-guzzling skills to not choke or spit out my coffee.

“Does your business profit at all when the amount of coffee is considered?”

“Employee benefits comes from employee funding,” Heero remarks, not even looking up from the screen.  I look at Heero confused, and Wufei clarifies the vagueness of my employer.

“The coffee fund comes from your paycheck. He’s not jipping you like you always accuse him of.”

“The fuck?!” The liquid ambrosia suddenly tastes like poison, and I set my cup down with a bitter glare at the muddy substance sucking up my income.

“If you cut your alcohol funds, it would make up the difference in the coffee funds,” Heero points out as well. I give him a sneer, crossing my arms.

“No way in _any_ level of hell will that ever happen.”

“Then you will remain destitute for the remainder of your existence,” Heero retorts, looking up from the screen. I stick my tongue out, letting my reaction to that fact show.

I honestly don’t give a shit. I don’t even have a real identity, so having anyplace better than what I have now is impossible to begin with, saving my beer money for something that can never happen is pointless. Heero rolls his eyes before going back to... whatever it is he’s doing.

“So what’s the plan? Creepy Little Redhead’s waiting for us to save her soul, what’s step 1?”

“Her name’s a good place to start,” Barton remarks blandly, flipping a page in the book he’s reading. I tilt my head sideways to read the spine.

_‘A Lesson in Torture and Mayhem.’_

Fuckin’ weirdo. I’ll have to borrow that after he’s done.

“Barton’s correct. Information on the spirit, along with the cause and timeframe of her death is most desirable. It makes interactions and possible exorcism techniques more controllable and predictable.”

I tilt my head backwards, closing my eyes.  The image - which I’m worried might be forever burned into my mind’s eye - of the little girl in blue comes up, as it has each time my eyes are closed. I haven’t told Heero, because he’s already overreacting to the whole possessed-in-a-couple-seconds issue. I honestly think he’s more insulted that his assumption was wrong than the fact that I sucked the girl’s soul into my head so quickly.

Asshole.

 _‘Mariemaia,’_ a little voice whispers inside my ear. The creepiest part is that it’s not from the _outside_ of my ear coming in, but more the opposite; more like someone speaking in my eardrum out to the world. _‘Grandpa calls me Maya-mi.’_

“Her name’s Mariemaia. Her grandfather nicknamed her Mayami,” I helpfully input, and Heero snorts.

“You’re still possessed, aren’t you?”

“If you mean _‘Is there a fuckin’ creepy little girl inside my head still?’_ then yes, I am,” I answer cheerfully, and a clatter of tableware draws my attention to the fifth occupant of the kitchen.

And damn, I almost forgot about him too.

“You’re possessed?!” Quatre repeats, horror evident in his body _and_ voice. Instead of whistling my appreciation of the talented act, I instead give a condescending shrug and grin in return.

“When am I _not_ possessed?”

“Good question,” Wufei notes. “Usually if not possessed by a ghost, you’re possessed by an insane amount of idiocy.”

“Wow buddy, I felt the love from here. Come ‘ere and gimme a hug!” I tease, leaning over the table and latching onto the Chinese man. The undignified squawk that escapes his mouth is _so_ worth the punch to the jaw, followed by the thick spine of a book to the back of my brains.

It was _totally_ worth it.

I recorded it on my phone. If he gets pissed, he can blame Heero for getting me one. Blackmail, anyone?

Trowa sets his book down, picking up my discarded coffee cup and taking a sip. I have the insane urge to tackle him to the ground and wrestle the cup back,  but instead settle for stealing his book and flipping to a random page. When he speaks, I still feel my skin crawl, despite knowing he’s in the room this time.  I keep forgetting he’s _there_ , honestly. Blends in with the tacky wallpaper too much.

“Now that we have a first name, and a possible relative, we should find out what we can about her life, and in turn her death. Why is she still here? What business would a small child have to remain on this plane of existence?”

“Children spirits are often the victims of brutal murders. They are confused and scared, unsure of what happened or why. They remain behind to try to solve it, or to look for someone who can save them, unaware of the fact that they have already passed on from the world of the living,” Wufei answers Trowa, sounding more like he’s reading the answer from Webster’s Encyclopedia of Supernatural Thingies.

“Suzie’s kid had a self-imposed mission,” I remind him. “She might be feelin’ the need to pass a message on to th’guy who’ll listen.”

“Observation noted,” Heero interrupts. “Right now we are only certain of one thing. She’s dead, still here, and needs to pass on. That is our job. She can go willingly, or we will forcefully evict her from existence.”

“Don’t be crass,” Quatre scolds, pushing food onto the empty plates that had been spread out while we were arguing. “That’s to be the last possible measure. I want any other options exhausted before that notion is considered. While I acknowledge that you are the leading experts in your field, might I remind you that I am the one funding this project, as well as hiring you for your expertise?”

I glance at Wufei, raising an eyebrow. He rolls his eyes, simplifying the mumbo-jumbo that had dribbled out of the rich-ass-man’s mouth.

“Plan Z, in layman’s terms. We’re holding that final option for a last ditch effort.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

The pressure that had been steadily building behind my eyes fades away, and I relax back into my chair. Heero’s eyes on me don’t go unnoticed, but I don’t give into the silent demand to tell him what just happened with Creepy Dead Girl.

_‘Please don’t make me leave. I can’t go until Daddy says I can.’_

“Who’s your pops?” I ask quietly, going unheard over the argument that broke out again. Trowa glances over at me. Okay, maybe not-so-unheard. But he ain’t drawing attention to the fact that I’ve gone nuts and started talking to myself, so I’ll let his blatant eavesdropping slide, for now.

 _‘My daddy’s my daddy, silly,’_ she answers, the innocence of a six-year-old missing the point of the question. I huff, shaking my head.

“What do other people call your dad?”

 _‘Your Excellency!’_ she says, mimicking a simpering, weak voice. One that sounds _way_ too much like my old boss.

“That doesn’t help me, love,” I murmur, amusement lacing my words. Trowa raises a brow in question, and I mimic a scribble with my fingers. He pushes an abandoned notebook at me, handing me a pen right after.

‘Dad -> Excellency -> no name?’ I jot down, listening to the little girl ramble on about all the many wonderful things Grandpa told her about Daddy.

“Hey, love, did Daddy own this house, or was it Grandpa?”

_‘Daddy did. Grandpa pretended it was his, but it was really Daddy’s. Grandpa was stupid about it a lot.’_

“I bet he was,” I agree. “Is your Grandpa around this dump still?”

 _‘No, Grandpa went to the bright place,_ ’ she answers me, her voice quieting. _‘I wanted to go there too, but the... the_ thing _wouldn’t let me! It kept making me come back here. I don’t want to be here, but Daddy isn’t letting me go past the_ thing _yet.”_

“What does the thing look like?” I’m trying to write as fast as she’s rambling, which is hard to understand through her ghostly sobs.  The ‘thing’ scares her, and I get why.

Some asshole bound her to the house. The asshole’s probably her father, from the sounds of it. He better hope I don’t find his sorry excuse of an ass and beat it to death for his daughter’s pain.

* * *

 

I hate my life. Instead of spending my weekend vegging out on my bed and drinking myself into a nice state of oblivion, I’m crawling through the dilapidated ruins of a former manor with the last person on the face of this planet I want to be with.  I’m not even sure what the hell we’re looking for, but I really, _really_ hope it isn’t a corpse.

“I don’t see anything here,” Trowa calls down, and I tap his shin to let him know I’m about to drop his ass. He steps forward as I duck my head, backing up in the same move. He smoothly lands in a crouch in front of me, glittering green eyes staring up at me smugly.

Showoff.

“Move your freakishly tall ass out of the way. We still have...” I glance at the mass of scribbles on the crumpled sheet, locating the number I want. “Fifty-eight areas to look at.”

“Great, shouldn’t take long,” Trowa remarks. I resist the urge to break his perfect little nose, and instead shove the paper back into my pocket. I doubt by the time we get halfway done that it will be readable.

“Why does it have to be a manor?” I whine, trying desperately to ignore the things that are clinging to my braid. “Why can’t it be an abandoned one-room shack on a small island, that someone recently cleaned? You know, and while they’re at it, they can leave little post-it notes pointing the way to whatever the fuck we’re tryin’ to find!” I snarl, turning around and waving a hand at the stubborn mess of spiderweb I just passed through. “Fuckin’ piece of shit!”

“Calm down,” Trowa snorts, obviously amused. He steps close, grabbing my hand to stop my mad fight against the air.  He pulls a thin cloth out of his jeans pocket, running it down the length of my braid with a gentle grip. I try not to show how quickly the gesture made my knees turn to jelly, but the smugness burning in those stab-able green eyes shows how much I utterly failed at it.

“Something wrong, Duo?” he asks, leaning in enough to brush his lips across the shell of my ear as he speaks. I flush against my will, wishing that we weren’t in such a small crawlspace, since I can’t back away from him. My body’s already pressed against one wall, with his taking up the space of the opposite wall. Did I mention these crawlspaces were meant for only one person at a time? And that Trowa’s freakishly tall? Like... beanstalkish tall?

Is it me, or is it getting warmer in here?

“It’s just you,” he answers, making me belatedly realize I said that aloud. A hand toying with the edge of my tee distracts me from the embarrassment, my focus zoning in on the slight brush of his skin against my hip.

“D-don’t, we have a _house_ \--” My voice jumps higher than Wufei trying to reach the tea on the top of the cupboard as a finger slides into the waistband of my pants. I _swore_ there was more space in this hallway, does Trowa _need_ to be pressed right up against me so tightly?

“No one even knows we’re searching up here,” he reminds me, the heat of his breath against my neck. Wait, when did his head move downwards? “They’re still busy arguing out the end-case results in the kitchen, if you recall.”

“O-oh yeah--” I moan, and I’m not quite sure I’m answering the non-question he just said. The hand trailing along the back of my thigh, plus the light suction on my neck, has me quite unsure of many things, including what we’re doing up here in the first place.

“So easily stimulated. Is that why you drink so much?” he asks, and oddly enough the obvious jibe at my alcoholism doesn’t break the mood. I nod, humming in agreement.

“D-d-deadens... it...” I gasp. “C-can’t b-bear...”

 _‘Someone’s coming,_ ’ Mayami’s voice breaks into the heated haze surrounding my coherent thoughts, and it works as a much better bucket of ice than Trowa’s remark on my drinking habits. I push him away, panting harshly. The heated look in his eyes makes it hard to _not_ go back into his grasp.

“S-someone’s co--- on their way up,” I breathe, trying to regain my breath. I don’t think implying someone coming (when that’s what I _really_ want to do right now) will help diffuse the situation.

 _‘Daddy at least does this in a proper room,_ ’ Mayami scolds, and I flush deep red, mortified of the fact that I’m getting scolded by a little girl on sexual discreetness. This has to be wrong on _so_ many levels.

When I point this out to Trowa, I wonder to myself if my brain didn’t turn all the way back on yet. He breaks out laughing, leaning back against his wall and clutching his stomach while I pray to any deity I can remember that the ground will open up and swallow me, or have the roof collapse and kill me--

“When you two are finished, please clean up and make yourselves presentable. While I am glad you are attempting to overcome your differences, sexual conduct with clients is frowned upon, Duo,” Heero breaks into my rapidly deteriorating train of thought, quickly resetting it and multiplying my wishes to include Trowa.

He’s the one who started this whole mess. Of course _I_ get blamed for it. Asshole.

* * *

 

“Next time you receive information this vital to the investigation, I would recommend you not go vigilante.”

I slouch in my chair, avoiding making eye contact with Heero.  Trowa’s leaning against the wall behind me, and I resist the urge to see if Heero’s cutting remarks are affecting him as much as they are me. But then again, Trowa doesn’t owe his current state of existence to the dick, so he probably doesn’t give a shit, which from the last few times I met him fits his profile exactly.

Why am I surrounded by so many assholes?

“As we were working on a plan of execution, you two wander off into a haunted and possibly dangerous residence with no tools to aid you in case of a deadly encounter. Which you _then_ abandon for fornicating in a very unhygienic location.”

I debate rising to my defense, but my throat seems to have abandoned me halfway through that last reprimand, along with any shred of dignity or pride I could have ever had. Trowa, standing behind me still, snickers. He stops at a dark look from Heero though, going silent once more.

 _‘Aha! Even he can’t avoid the effects of the Heero Glare,’_ I cheer in my head, a giggle from Mayami resounding around my skull in turn. My humour and good cheer vanishes to quickly be replaced by mortification again. I forgot a little dead kid’s listening to this too.

I’m now sort of wishing I’ll die on this case. I don’t think I can face up to this again, _especially_ if Wufei finds out.

“Do not let me catch you behaving in such a manner again,” Heero finishes, letting his arms fall to his sides. I can’t find it in me to relax though as a whole new look is turned on me, the look I really hate when we’re in the office.

Damn it, I’m gonna have the shit job, aren’t I?

* * *

 

I hate my life.

 _‘No, that isn’t him,’_ Mayami says, sounding as bored as I feel.  We’ve been assigned to look at any picture related to her house, hoping to come across an image of her dad or grandpa. It’s been well over six hours, and no one Mayami can remember has shown up yet.

“Can you be forgetting faces?” I ask her seriously, because a) I’m fuckin’ bored out of my mind, and b) There aren’t many pictures left. Actually, I think we’ve looked at this one four times now.

 _‘I’d_ never _forget my daddy’s face!’_ she shrieks, and I clamp my hands over my ears instinctively. It would have worked much better if the sound was coming from the right sides.

“Okay okay, calm down midget,” I mutter, flipping to the next picture. I quickly go to flip it again, but a little high-pitched squeal has my hand frozen.

Holy fucking bat-shit, she just _took over my arm!_

_‘Daddy! That’s Daddy! Look Duo, you found him!’_

I turn the picture over, and quickly drop the paper. The name scrawled on the back has my insides freezing over, and I close my eyes in despair.

Why can’t my past vanish as easily as my ex-boss?

I hate my life.

* * *

 

“You have the shittiest case loads I’ve ever seen,” I snarl, slamming the damned sheet of paper on the desk in front of Heero. He quickly reaches out to stop his glass from spilling over his precious equipment, and all the eyes in the room turn to focus on me.

Mayami’s been _very_ quiet since I found the picture. I don’t mind, because I don’t think I can take her childish enthusiasm at the moment. I’d blow my own brains out, and I like them where they are right now.

“First, Zechs Merquise, and now _this_?! Did I burn down a nunnery in a past life?!” I moan, dropping into the empty chair beside Heero and cradling my face. Heero picks up the paper, glancing at both sides before setting it back down.

“This complicates matters, I agree.”

“Khushrenada,” Quatre reads, and I visibly flinch.

“Treize Khushrenada, head crime lord over the entire southern continent. Makes Zechsy look like a sardine in a sea of whales, if you catch my drift,” I mutter, and Wufei snorts.

“Don’t you mean ‘sharks?’”

“No, not big ‘nuff,” I mumble through my hands. “I’m talkin’ ‘bout fuckin’ huge-ass whales.”

“So, from what you’ve pieced together of the child’s perspective and memories, along with the data, Treize Khushrenada bound his daughter’s soul to this house?” Quatre cuts in, changing the subject.

“But I don’t know _why_ he’d do that, there’s no reason for her to remain behind!” I shout, standing up and kicking my chair in frustration. “When binding the souls of those in the process of dying, or recently dead, there needs to be a motive, a reason, a _why_ , and I don’t _have one!_ ”

“Calm down,” Heero demands, and I feel the anger burn away. Picking my chair up from where it landed, I slump back down into the seat, letting my head fall onto the solid surface of the table.

“That’s what we need to figure out. Why would this man need to keep his daughter here, in a house he obviously abandoned? Why did she die? Why are we needed here?” Heero continues, his voice mellowing out from his outburst at me. I close my eyes.

_Why?_

* * *

 

Shimmering images overlap each other, a sea of noise and lights overwhelming my senses.  I want to open my mouth and join the symphony of painful cries and moans, but my body isn’t responding. I can faintly hear Mayami crying, her words lost in the blizzard of my dreams.

One shimmer stands out against the storms of my mind, a bold and solid force of red imprinted as deeply as Mayami is.

_Why._

“--bleeding heavily--”

“--normal? This is _not_ normal!--”

“--is for him, Winner, go get the bandages from the first-aid kit.”

“He’s coming to. Duo, can you hear us?”

“Nnngh,” I moan, squeezing my eyes shut against the light over my face. I get no relief though, for the circle still burns brightly in my mind.

_‘Duo?! I’m scared! Make it go away!’_

“Wha’ there, love?” I stumble over my words, but Mayami understands me. Either that, or she’s so freaked out she doesn’t care what the fuck I’m saying.

_‘It’s back! It’s back! I can’t do this again! Please, Duo! I want to go home!’_

“It’s here?” I wonder, having no clue what she’s screaming about. The voices outside my head go silent, letting me hear the one inside much more easily.

_‘Daddy said I have to keep it safe. I can’t let it take it. I can’t go to heaven if it takes it! Please, Duo, help me protect it!’_

“Calm down Mayami,” I demand, and she sniffles, but stops rambling. “Tell me what all these ‘its’ are. I can’t help you protect something I don’t even know!”

 _‘Daddy says there’s an evil monster that eats little girls. It’s trying to... to...’_ She starts crying again, and a cold, solid ball of unease forms in my throat. I clear it, and finally focus outside on my quiet observers. My next question, however, is still aimed at the little girl in my mind.

“Mayami, is your body still in this house?”

_‘Y-yeah. Daddy left it there after he was done. He said I have to keep me safe from it.’_

“God fucking damn it all to god damn fucking hell!” I curse, throwing myself sideways and out of bed.

Hands grab me, forcing me to the ground. It takes several punches, bites, and a good few minutes of fighting to realize that it’s not the mysterious unknown monster trying to stop me, it’s my boss, coworker, and clients.

“Calm down, damn it! What’s going on?!”

I stop fighting them, my breath still coming short. Mayami’s panic is starting to seep into me, making it hard to think.

“Khushrenada killed his daughter,” I gasp out, an odd pressure on my chest making it hard to speak. “Hid her body. Some _thing_ is trying to get it. She’s here to protect her body. Have to find her!” I struggle again, trying to get their hands off of me. Don’t they get that we don’t have _time_ for this?!

“Stop and think for a moment, Duo! We don’t know where the body is, or what the hell we’re up against! We can’t just let you run in there blindly on the emotions of a child!” I think Heero’s shaking me, or else we’re in the middle of the house collapsing. I’m not sure what’s going on right now, honestly.

“There’s no _time_ , that thing is _here!_ ” I scream, clutching my head. I feel warm blood drip down my face, the trail running over my lips and igniting my hysterical panic again.

“Chang, take Barton and start scanning the residence! Winner, man the computer feeds and get everyone connected to a Com channel. I’ll be with Duo until he either leads us to the end goal, or calms down enough to become useful. Time’s against us, so now would be a _good time to go!_ ” The mad scramble at Heero’s words doesn’t seem to phase me.

The room seems to calm as the living presences leave my range of senses. Soon, it’s just Heero, me, and Mayami, and Heero’s crouched in front of me, staring into my eyes. Have I ever mentioned how fascinatingly blue _his_ eyes are?

“Mariemaia, where is this being you speak of?”

 _‘It’s coming from the cellar,_ ’ she whimpers, and without my say-so, those same words spill out from my lips, little whimpering sounds included. Damn brat took my mouth over!

“Where is it going?” he asks her, and I feel myself responding, I feel _her_ responding.

“In my room. Daddy keeps it clean for me when he comes, but he can’t come anymore. They watch here too closely, they don’t let Daddy see me.”

“Are you in your room too?”

“Yes Mr. Hero, I’m tucked in my bed, Shaggy and Silly tucked in with me too.”

“Oh? And who are Shaggy and Silly?” He seems to be focusing on keeping her calm, from the sounds of it. Either that, or he holds a disturbing fascination with little girl’s toys.

“My favourite dollies.  Shaggy’s a big fuzzy teddy bear, and Silly’s a clown.”

“Can you show me them? I’d love to see your room, Mariemaia,” Heero holds his hands out, and my own unwillingly reach out and clasp them tightly. He pulls my unresisting body to our feet, letting us start leading him.

“Daddy was very sad when I died,” Mayami’s telling Heero. “He was _so_ mad at Grandpa when he found out. He did the bad thing to Grandpa that Grandpa did to me. I think Daddy went a little silly in the head too, because after he finished being bad to Grandpa, he drew silly circles on both of us. Grandpa’s not in his room though, Daddy tossed him in a box and put it away. He’s in the cellar.”

“Is that what you’re supposed to be keeping yourself safe from?” Heero’s a fuckin’ good actor, because if I were in his place, I’d be making all sorts of faces at this sick story.

“Yeah, Daddy says it’s very important. Grandpa made the bad thing come, and I died because of it. Daddy can’t make it go away, but he made it so it can’t go far from Grandpa, and that’s why Grandpa’s in time-out forever. But the _thing_ isn’t listening to Daddy anymore, and it can come to my room now. It scares me.”

“Remember what Duo promised you, Mariemaia,” Heero reminds her. “We’re here to keep you safe. We’ll help your Daddy do that, okay?”

“Okay Mr. Hero!”

Mayami’s bedroom is in the attic. The walls are painted a light pink, with purple and grassy greens spread everywhere around it. Our body turns away from the bed, hands clutching at her chest. She squeezes her eyes shut, not wanting to see her body.

“Duo, I need your help,” Heero calls to her, but Mayami shakes her head.

“Duo can’t do it. He’s stuck where I was, Mr. Hero.”

“God _damn it!_ ” Heero curses, and presses down on the headset’s mic switch.

“We’re out of time here! We need to get this over with before Duo’s gone!”

“She’s taking over?!” Chang’s voice sounds, audible even from Heero’s headpiece. She sniffs, tears welling in her eyes.

“She’s already taken over. Duo took her place inside his body. We need to get a move on it!”

“I found the other body-- dear Lord protect us, what is _this_?!”

“What did you find, Barton?”

“This is so fucked up,” Trowa curses, and a startled question she can’t understand comes from Quatre.

“We have a god damn _demon_ on our hands. This sick fuck summoned a demon in trade for his granddaughter’s soul!”

“Which he never got,” Heero realizes. “Which her father is trying to prevent. She might already be lost to him in life, but her soul can still move on to the afterlife. Without that, she’ll cease to exist on any plane.”

“Then why bind her here? Why not propel her into the other world?”

“He messed up. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, so she’s trapped to her body, and in turn the demon’s trapped to the grandfather. We need to break the circles.”

“We need Duo for that!”

“Well, Barton, he’s not here! We’ll make do without him for now!”

“I can do it,” Wufei breaks in, and the com goes silent. “Duo’s been explaining the summoning guidelines and markings to me, after the one we discovered in Relena’s home.”

“There was a circle in her home?” Quatre asks, and Heero cuts him off.

“Now is not the time for this. Wufei, join Barton down with the other circle. We must break them in the same moment.”

“Won’t that break the demon free too?” Quatre questions, and Heero grunts.

“That’s why Wufei is down with the other body. He’s the only trained exorcist on hand.”

“That makes me feel safe,” Trowa mutters. “I should have taken out that life insurance policy last month.”

“Hey, do you even know how to break a circle, Heero?” Wufei suddenly asks, as if the thought just barely occurred to him.

“Go do your job, Chang! Or else you’ll be adopting Mariemaia, I swear to all that Duo believes to be sacred.”

“Mr. Hero, I’m sorry,” Mayami sniffs, and Heero pats her shoulder.

“You didn’t mean to. Can you try to make Duo change places with you again? I really need his help, child.”

“I’ll try. I don’t know how we did it. He’s being really quiet.”

“Make him talk. Annoy the living shit out of him. Make him respond,” Heero tells her sternly, and Mayami sniffs again, giving a determined nod.

“Yes sir! Grandpa said I was good at that!”

“Good girl,” Heero mutters, turning back towards her dead body. She can’t see it, because she has her back turned to it. She doesn’t want to see herself dead. It’s gross.

“Duo?! Duuuuuuuuuuo?! Mr. Grumpy Pants! Hey, stop ignoring me! I’m hungry, and I really need to pee! I don’t know how to use your pee-pee Duo, I need you to use it for me! Please? I really gotta go! I want a snack, but my snack makes your tummy feel nasty! Make me a snack that your tummy likes, _please_?! Duo, I’m scared! Please come back! You _promised_ to keep me safe, why aren’t you _here?!_ Duo?! Duo! Where are you Duo?!”

_‘God damn it you fuckin’ brat, shut the fuck up already! Can’t a guy get some sleep ‘round here?!’_

“Duo! Mr. Hero says I need to annoy the living shit out of you. What’s that mean?”

_‘It means you’re doing a very good job right now, and that Mr. Heero is going to die a very painful death.’_

“Dying isn’t fun Duo, don’t make Mr. Hero do that.”

_‘Sorry kiddo, I’m not making a promise I can’t keep.’_

“Mr. Hero needs you to help break the circles on my body.”

A tingling sensation takes over our body, a rush of sensation knocking the strength from our knees. We collapse to a heap on the floor, a buzzing static overtaking my hearing.

“Duo?”

“God damn it, I need a beer,” I moan, and a rather undesirable response comes from the com.

“I don’t think you’ll be allowed to drink it right now. Underage laws apply for small girls, you know.”

“Shut the fuck up, Trowa!” I snap, pushing off the ground with shaky arms. I wobble, my legs threatening to start round two with the polished floor if not for a set of arms catching me underneath my own. My body is pulled against another with the strength to support me, and I relax into it.

“Thanks, Heero,” I mumble, and he helps me over to the bed. I examine the circle crudely carved into the chest and stomach of my skull’s tenant, and I swallow back the bile rising in my throat. Amazing dad or not, this was the work of a very sick motherfucker.

Which, now that I’m thinking much more clearly, suits the motherfucker I already knew.

“Wufei, can you hear me?” I ask, pressing and locking the speaker on my com. No point in switching it on and off when I need both hands to work.

“Loud and clear,” is my response, and I hum.

“Okay, rememb’r what I was tellin’ ya ‘fore we took th’case?”

“Which part?”

“Lashback, rebound, that whole can of worms?” The line is quiet for a few breaths, before a muffled ‘shit’ is heard.

“We have to do this carefully, and in exact sync. Trowa, you need to help him. This is going to take more than two people. Heero, you’re helpin’ me on this end.”

“Where do we start?”

“We’re going backwards. First, we break the ‘why’ markings. That’s located over the left section of the torso, right over the heart. Do you have a sharp fileting object on you?”

“Here,” I hear Trowa mutter, and the sound of moving air and metal sounds the exchange.

“Carefully remove the thickest line from the center without disturbing the outer circle, or the two mirrored, curving lines inside. The little scratches around those don’t matter so much.”

I move as I speak, needing to keep in time with their movements as I explain what to do.

“Now, trash that piece and take the end of your knife and slice the circle in half, _not_ along the line you just cut.”

I do exactly as I just told Wufei to do, and I feel the first barrier fall.

“Okay, two more to go, and we have Hell unleashed on us. Trowa, do you have a lighter on you?”

“Yes.”

“Get ready to use it when I say. Heero, that goes for you too. Here’s one,” I offer, handing over my own lighter. “Don’t break it, I want it back after. So now, move down to the stomach where the nasty piece of work is. This is going to be a break-and-make, so as you gouge out any portion, Trowa needs to set fire right behind your cut. I’d recommend backing up ASAP when you finish. Just make sure the entire circle’s sliced through, it needs two wounds on the outer rim.”

I let my switchblade sink into her mummified stomach, feeling the heat of Solo’s favourite Zippo burning against my hand. I yank the blade quickly through the small body, lifting the knife and throwing myself backwards as the resulting release of power shoots from her tiny body.

“Now Wufei, completely remove the last circle on the center of his chest, and Trowa, burn the fuckin’ thing!”

I jump forward, ramming my blade into the center of her chest, piercing her brittle heart. I quickly twist my blade in a crude circle, yanking it back out with the decomposing chunk of sealed flesh attached. Tossing the blade to the ground, Heero tosses the lighter on top of the mass of Mayami’s body, and I duck, covering my head with my arms as the final release of power is broken.

“Run, Mayami, run to that light as quickly as you can! We’ll distract it for you.”

 _‘Thank you so much Duo! I love you,’_ she cries, and I give her the strongest mental hug I can imagine.

“Love ya too little brat. Now _run!_ ”

Her presence fades from me as a much more sinister one starts to form. I barely have time to get the words “Oh _fuck_ no!” out of my mouth before I’m forcibly sent back to the dark place in my mind.

 _‘I really hope they don’t kill my body_.’

* * *

 

I don’t know how long I’ve been here in the darkness. Even though I’m aware of the fact that something big is going on outside of this place, I can’t find it in me to care.  Serena’s here with me, and we’ve talked a little, not having the pressure of life, secrecy, or a case stopping us from meeting face-to-face like this.

“I thought you moved on,” I had asked her, when I first noticed she was here with me. She just smiled, and never answered. I couldn’t remember after that why I found that so important.

“I never did thank you properly for helping my children, or apologize for harming your body while residing in it.”

“No biggie. You have a cool daughter, when she’s not makin’ me wanna strangle her.”

“A parent’s biggest frustration, the battle between love and annoyance. You carry a large amount of both within you, Duo.”

“I don’t have any love, not anymore.”

Her smile was sad at that, and we were quiet for some time. She held me against her, and we basked in the darkness until she felt it was time to speak again.

“He wouldn’t want to see you like this,” she whispers to me. “He would want you to embrace your life, and move on from the pain of his mistakes.”

“I can’t, Serena. I have to live with it every day, there’s no way I can move on from what he did.”

“And you hate him for it.”

“No!”

“But you do. You hate him, and you hate him because you still love him too. You hate him for making you feel so confused, and for putting you where you are now.”

“I...”

“It’s okay, Duo. It doesn’t have to make sense, because it’s how you feel.”

“Why did he do this to me?”

“You’d have to ask him, only he will be able to answer that.”

“I’ll never be able to know, then. He died.”

“Then you need to move _on_. You have so many good things happening, don’t lose them by sticking to the past. Live, Duo. You need to _live_ again.”

The darkness gives me up, and I long to return to it as the pain of living overwhelms me again.

I really need to stop waking up like this.


	5. Case 5 (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wufei fails to school Duo, things start to go downhill, and Duo fights his inner demons.
> 
> Notice: Large amounts of alcohol were consumed to bring you this portion of the production. Give thanks to the poor soul who now will have to suffer the hangover soon to follow.

“This is stupid,” I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut tighter.  I hear Wufei’s frustrated sigh rather clearly, considering he’s sitting right next to me.

“Nevertheless, you still need to do this,” he snaps.  I’ve devoted the last five minutes to thoroughly pissing Wufei off, at least enough to call this whole shebang off. I can feel my victory close at hand…

“Do what? Picture waterfalls and butterflies?” I mock, my eyes still closed. Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Wufei’s trying to teach me to _meditate_. It’s a bunch of bullshit, and it sure as hell ain’t working.

“Maybe listening to directions for once in your pathetic existence?”

Oooh, that one _almost_ stung.

“Hm, but what’s the fun in that?” I muse aloud, and finally open my eyes. This battle of wills is over, and I’m sure as hell done with it.

“Well, better get back to doing something useful,” I mock, standing up and stretching my legs.  We’re at the office, having cleared the space next to my desk to seat two cushions for this bullshit. I feel a shove against my back, and fall flat on the floor again.  I don’t have to wonder who the hell dared to do it, because I hear them berating me.

“Sit down and stop playing around,” Heero demands, and I scowl.

“I’m _not_ playing around, this is _dumb_.”

“It does not matter. The end result is what I desire, not your enjoyment.”

Yeah, the _end result_. How often have I heard _that_ since this whole… _thing_ with the meditating started? So apparently, according to the great-and-powerful Heero, I get possessed too easily. Understandable, because I agree that it sucks. But this whole method of ‘closing my mind to outside influences through the willpower of my own self’ ain’t so understandable. If I knew what the hell he was trying to get me to do in the first place, I’d probably figure something out on my own. But instead, I have to play pretend with Wufei.

I don’t even get why the guys are so demanding that I learn it ASAP, it ain’t like I _died_ or anything.

I just slept a very long time. Okay, that’s pushing the truth too far even for my tastes. I fell into a fuckin’ _coma_ for two months. But it’s like they _care_ or something, which I highly doubt. I’m _useful_ , not _wanted_. There’s a difference, and I’m very aware of it.

“Stop brooding, and get back to work. Chang, I suggest using a focal method. I highly reckon anything his imagination would produce will be the exact opposite of what you’re aiming to achieve.”

“Hey, what’s that mean?!” I shout, throwing one of the small pillows at the back of his head. He ducks, without ever stopping his stride towards his office.

Dick.

“Come on,” Wufei sighs, standing up. I do the same, glad to be moving again.

I don’t like sitting still for too long, especially for something this dumb.

* * *

 

“Just focus on one particular object. Something that will be easy to see, isn’t moving too much, or won’t vanish from the area anytime soon,” he gives me a pointed look as my eyes stray towards a rather attractive pair playing tennis across from us. I divert my attention from the eye-candy, instead focusing on one of the street lamps, the light inside turned off for the day.

“Heero means well, but you’re too restless to really grasp the meditation he wants. So I’m going to simplify this for you. Your mind is too open to outside interference, ghosts and spirits just one part of it. If a psychic came along and tried to control you, he’d get away with it because your mind wouldn’t question it. Heero also wants to raise your defenses against _that_ happening too.”

“So what am I ‘pose to even be doin’, Wu? I don’t get what the fuck you want from me!” I snap, my eyes turning to look at him.

“I want you to get control over your own thoughts! Be familiar with them to the point where you can notice when something’s not _right_ up there—”

“But I thought _nothing_ was right up there?” I innocently question, and he glares at me. Oooh, apparently he doesn’t like it when I’m using his own insults against him.

“Then when things are working properly, someone’s interfering.”

“Ouch,” I mutter, letting my eyes wander again. I watch the tennis players some more, a small voice in my mind wondering how they can _bend_ like that…

“…I think you’re too emotionally driven, though Heero thinks otherwise. Either way, you need to learn to push others out of your head.”

“Solo‘d tell me that all the time, never figured out _how_ though,” I remark.

I freeze, realizing what I just said right as Wufei asks, “Who is Solo?”

“No one,” I answer, my voice flat. Today was not a day to think of this. Fuckin’ mouth movin’ ‘fore my mind!

“Duo,” he prods, and I give him a blank look.

“I’m going home. Don’t… don’t call me in again. Not today.”

He lets me go without a fight. But then, he doesn’t have any right to keep me there. The two of them are keeping secrets from me, and we all know it.

I still have no clue what happened to Mayami, or the demon. I don’t know how I fell into the coma, or how that whole fiasco ended. I don’t know where Quatre or Trowa went, or if they’re even alive.

I don’t know about anything after I set Mayami’s body on fire, except the cold darkness that followed.

I wander towards my old apartment before remembering that I don’t live there anymore. The landlady figured I was killed or moved on after having vanished for over two months, and gave my place away. Considering I didn’t legally even own the place, I can’t argue with it. So I turn my steps towards another familiar path.

Yeah, Heero better not call me in, because I doubt I’ll be able to work.

I never can when Solo’s birthday’s coming up. Fucking sucks.

* * *

 

“Come on, Kid.” Howie’s pushing me towards his car, his iron grip on my arm the only thing keeping me upright.  The world’s turning much too quickly for me to keep my feet on it, a mixture of nausea and lightheadedness not helping my cause at all.

“You really need a better outlet,” he grumbles, but we both know it’s useless. Howie’s been saying that for years, and we still go through the motions each time: I get drunk off my ass, he stops me from doing anything too stupid, he drags my worthless ass back to his place, where I’ll finally remove the excessive amounts of alcohol in my system. Then, we’ll pretend that there was no significant reason behind my drinking binge, and not see each other again for two months, until we repeat the process.

No mentions of Solo, or what happened to Solo, or what Solo _did_ to us.

Nope, no _thinking_ about it either. Don’t I know my own rules? Fuckin’ hell.

“Get in before you kill yourself,” Howie mumbles, pushing me headfirst into the backseat of his car.

I think I fell asleep for a little, because I don’t remember him starting the car or leaving the bar. But when I’m finally aware again of what’s going on, it’s too late.

“—usually let him crash at my place for the next few nights, but I have a two-week contract starting tomorrow, an’ I sure as hell ain’t leavin’ him on his own.”

“He may remain here.  Is there anything I need to be aware of?”

“Yeah, he’s going to be sick as hell, and don’t give in to him. He wants to start a fight, that’s a given on any night, but tonight’s real bad. The Kid ain’t gonna be his right self, an’ he’s gonna say a lot’ve shit. Ignore it. Oh, an’ probably lock up the sharp and pointys, if you get my drift.”

“Understood. He will be safe while in my care.”

“Sure, whatever. Hey, Brat!”

I blink slowly (hey, I can see again), staring up into the hairy, white face of the only parental figure I still have.

“Your friend here’s going to take care of you tonight. Please don’t start shit until I get back.”

“Whaaa…” I drawl, but my question’s cut off by coughing, which is immediately followed by vomiting. A hand much warmer than Howie’s rubs my back, before lifting my chin up. I close my eyes as a damp cloth wipes at my face, the cold liquid a relief against my burning skin.

When I open my eyes, I immediately close them again. God damn, Howard, what the fuck are you thinking?!

Because, as I open them again, I realize that I’m staring into the amused face of Trowa Barton.

And I just threw up on his shoes.

“Come on,” Trowa grunts, his voice straining as he lifts me upright from the car. I collapse against him, letting him support my entire weight. His nose wrinkles (I doubt I smell wonderful right now, so I don’t blame him) as I move closer, and Howie drives off. I don’t know if it’s the cold, the anger at being dropped off like a child by Howie, being dropped off _at_ _Trowa Barton’s place,_ or just the inevitable hangover drawing near, but my body’s starting to shake. I can’t recall at the moment why I hate Trowa so much, but I really don’t want to be here.

“Well, better get you inside before you make a liar of me,” he mutters, lugging my useless ass up the sidewalk and through his front door. He doesn’t take any care after that, letting me fall to the floor as he kicks the door closed behind us, heading to the kitchen.

“Mmm,” I mumble, snuggling into the plush carpet. It’s warm, not worn down or caked flat with filth, and very comfortable. I won’t mind staying right here at all.

“You can’t sleep there,” Trowa sighs, grabbing at my ankle. I try to kick him away, but he seems to move like a ninja, grabbing my foot and pulling. I don’t put up a fight, so I let him drag me through the hall, and into a room full of boxes.

“Stay here. Don’t… do whatever it is you do.”

“Mm,” I moan, reclaiming the floor. “C’n I sleep ‘ere?”

“…Sure.”

* * *

 

“Nngh,” I groan as I turn onto my back. Cautiously, I sit up, experience fueling my actions.  Hangovers are a bitch, but can easily be dealt with. I scoot sideways, hitting a wall.

Experience tells me that wall shouldn’t be there. Actually, come to think of it, where am I?

Thick, tan carpet below me, white painted walls, a door that’s much more secure than my front door, and a shit-ton of boxes.

“Oh fuck,” I moan, grabbing at my head. The room’s starting to spin again. “Did I break into a storage unit?”

“No,” a very soft, unwelcome voice replies. I jerk, smacking the wall again. Oh yeah, forgot that was there.

“ _Barton?_ ” I yelp, squeezing my eyes shut. Great, I’m hallucinating.

“I’m not a hallucination. A rather… _interesting_ man dropped you off here last night. Remember?”

“Nnn, not really,” I admit, leaning against the wall with a bit more grace.

“I hauled you in, where you decided to sleep on my floor for the night. And now, here we are.”

“Mm,” I agree, the cool temperature of the wall soothing against my heated skin.

“So the question is, are you staying here or leaving? The man insisted you stay, but I see no reason to be your keeper.”

I slowly open my eyes, watching his face for any sign of what he’s thinking. Nothing, a blank slate is what I see, and it’s not very helpful.

“I… Where’s Howie?”

“The man? He had a job that was going to take him a few weeks. Which is why you’re on my floor.”

Wow, Trowa didn’t even sound angry about it, despite the words he’s spouting off. His voice is as flat as his expression, and it merely sounds like a fact instead of an insult.

“Gotta get Howie,” I groan, using the wall to help me stand. I’m shaky, but it’ll fade the more I’m upright; as long as I don’t drink anything before reaching Howie. “Can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” Trowa’s next to me, steadying me as well. I feel trapped, and I tell Trowa this.

“What’s _wrong_ with you? This can’t be about the demon—”

“Fuck the demon! I don’t even know what _happened_ , so leave me alone!” I shout, shoving at Trowa. He doesn’t move. Instead, he pins me to the wall. Great, looks like I can’t find Howie.

“They haven’t told you?” he asks me gently, and I shake my head. Oww, I shouldn’t do that again.

“They refuse. I’m ‘poseta learn to keep things out. I don’t get what they want from me. I’m useless.”

“Shut up. Misery doesn’t suit you,” Trowa demands blandly, leaning his weight against me. He’s very warm.

“S’true. Can’t be helpful, only a pain. I’ll end up killin’ one of ‘em soon ‘nuff,” I mumble into his chest. When did his arms get around me? He’s very warm.

“I thought I told you to shut up?”

I chuckle, leaning against him. “Didn’t Wu ever tell ya? I’m shitty at listenin’ to directions.”

“I think he’s just a boring teacher,” Trowa counters, drawing another chuckle. Heat against my skin draws a hiss from my teeth, and I arch slightly away.

“So you need to learn to control your own mind?” Trowa asks me, and I nod, my head feeling fuzzy. I’m trying to figure out just where Trowa’s hand is wandering to, he keeps moving it up and down my side.

“I’ll take over for Mr. Chang, then,” Trowa teases, stepping away from me. He holds his hand out, and I hesitate a moment before placing my own in it.

Why does it feel like I just gave in to the devil?

* * *

 

“You’re too restless,” Trowa’s saying, leading me into his backyard. It’s not very large, but the trees and fence give us shade from the sun, and privacy from watching eyes. It’s not very well-kept either, the grass overgrown, and plant life taking over the place. A single bench, almost completely overtaken by a crawling vine, is where Trowa pushes me down to sit. It swings a little as I lean back, and I let myself sink onto it. Trowa sits next to me, rocking the swing with his foot to the ground. My legs aren’t long enough to reach the ground.

Tall bastard.

“So, I doubt you can find the core of yourself without help at first,” he explains, shifting to face me. I glance over at him, unsure of what he’s talking about. I don’t know much about brain powers, I really only learned about whatever Solo was obsessing about.

No, don’t think of Solo. Bad Duo.

Trowa’s hand draws me back from my thoughts, a gentle tug tilting me sideways. My head hits his chest, and the angle my body’s now leaning feels weird.

“Get comfortable, we’re going to be here a while.”

I listen, unsure of what to say that isn’t sarcastic or an insult (the guy’s trying to help me, I should probably not piss him off too much right now). When we’re curled up on the swinging bench, he drapes a hand over my eyes, a cool cloth pressing against them.

It feels good.

“You’re too restless, you need to relax. Listen to the world around you instead of trying to watch it.  If you think of something, let it move on. Don’t hold onto any thoughts, but don’t try to completely empty your head. That’s too dangerous for you.”

“I don’t understand,” I admit quietly, and Trowa chuckles.

“I can feel something inside of you isn’t right,” he says, a finger pressing against my chest. “It’s why you’re so open to spirits entering and controlling you. They don’t intend to overtake you so easily, but that wrongness draws them like a magnet. I think that filling that spot is what will help keep you safe from this.”

“So what, love is the cure?” I bite out, teeth clenched. A hand traces down my arm, barely a whisper against my skin.

“No, I doubt it’s that cliché.” I can hear his amusement, which relieves me. I don’t think I could have taken him seriously if he kept going on like that. We sit there in silence for quite some time, Trowa rocking the swing.  I’m listening to his breathing more than the ‘nature sounds’ I think I’m supposed to be. I can hear Trowa getting ready to talk, so when he does it doesn’t startle me.

“I think that your restlessness can be to your benefit.” I don’t respond right away, trying to figure out what he’s talking about. Hasn’t he been telling me the exact opposite?

“…Okay, you lost me.”

Trowa takes a deep breath, but before he can speak again, the phone inside the house starts ringing. I hear him sigh, before pushing at my shoulders.

“I need to answer that, it’s Quatre,” he explains, uncurling his legs from the bench and stretching. I watch him move into the house, feeling a little emptier inside.

I don’t get what that man’s trying to do, but it’s driving me _nuts_.

* * *

 

“So what did he want?” I push myself up on the counter, using it as a chair as Trowa opens a drawer near my leg. I might not be an expert in the kitchen, but I’m pretty sure most of the shit in that drawer isn’t used for cooking.

“We have a case to work on,” Trowa answers, and I can feel the wall between us back up. The openness that was there before that call is gone, and the ‘work Trowa’ is back. The one who’s a compete asshole.

What joy.

“Yuy will be calling you in a couple hours, once Quatre hires him,” Trowa continues, relocating the drawer’s contents into a bag. I really didn’t need to know he carried those, but on the other hand I don’t feel so weird having my own weapons with me.  It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you, and with my luck recently, the more the better.

“So what’s the deal with Winner?” I wonder, letting my legs swing back and forth, the heels beating a rhythm against the plywood doors. “I mean, I don’t get him at all.”

“Is that unusual?” Trowa asks, and I shrug.

“I normally get a good feel for people when I meet ‘em. He… he’s like smoke.” Trowa’s blank face doesn’t encourage me. I keep going anyway. “He seems to be one way, then he goes and does something completely different, and I get a different feel from him. He just keeps _changing_ who he is, and it’s driving me nuts!”

“He’s a psychic,” Trowa reveals to me. “He tunes into the emotional signals of those around him.  His ‘feel’ is affected by that.”

“So it’s not him I’m reading, then?” I question out loud. “I’m reading the people _he’s_ copying?”

“I’d assume so. He can’t control it that well, so when something’s overly emotional, he’ll start, well, _copying_ the feeling.”

“Makes sense, I didn’t know that,” I admit. “I thought he was just a bastard.”

“I thought everyone’s a bastard?”

“That’s beside the point,” I grin, leaning forward. My braid slides along my shoulder, dropping to dangle in front of me. “I think you’re an ass, too, if it makes you feel special.”

“I’m flattered,” he mocks, tugging on my braid playfully before dropping it again.

If he always behaved like this, I don’t think I’d hate him so much. But I know, as soon as we leave here, this is over. Though, come to think of it, I don’t even know what ‘this’ even _is_. Damn the man for fuckin’ with my head.

“Don’t look so down, you’d think there’s something upsetting you,” Trowa teases, and I put on my ‘nothing wrong here!’ smile.

“Nothing upsetting me, except that you didn’t make me any food. What a horrible host you are.”

“My apologies. I didn’t realize I had to feed a guest who threw up all over my legs last night.” My jaw drops, and I shriek out a single word.

_“What?!”_

* * *

 

“I hate life,” I mumble, shoving the door open a little more forcefully than needed.  Trowa, still following me around like a lost puppy, has been the outlet for my sour mood since the ‘case’ came up.  Heero being a damn stalker again doesn’t help my mood any either.

“Isn’t stalking illegal?” I wonder, dropping my bag onto the floor near Betty.  She’s looking neglected, but then again I’m the only one who cares for her wellbeing.

“I would assume so,” Trowa answers, more placating than anything. It’s pissing me off, but then again I can’t care enough at the moment.  I have bigger fish to fry.

“Yuy! I hate you!” I shout towards the closed office door, where I _know_ the man’s hiding.

He ignores me, the little fucker.

“Fine! I don’t need you anyways!” I call out, running a hand over the dying leaves of Betty’s arm. “Isn’t that right, Betty? You’re the only one I really need, those bastards can rot in Hell for all I care.”

“Your relationship with the office’s plant is very disturbing,” Trowa comments, having taken the chair at my desk. I can feel him watching me, but I ignore him for the moment as I empty some of my water bottles into Betty’s stomach.

“Wait until he starts reciting poetry,” Wufei mutters, pushing the door closed. I didn’t bother to close it behind me, and it appears Trowa didn’t either. Wufei drops his bag onto my desk (when did it become the popular spot to do that?), greeting Trowa as he does so. I’m too busy consoling the distraught Betty to pay attention to them.

“Don’t listen to them, there’s nothing wrong with us. Wufflemuffin’s just upset that you left him for me--”

“I am _not!_ ”

“--and that we’re so much happier now without him hurting our love,” I pat the rim of her pot, standing up and taking the empty plastic bottles. I treat Wufei to a large grin, which sets him on edge.

“Oh, and Wu-wu?”

“Don’t call me that,” he automatically responds. I grin wider.

“So Wufflemuffin’s okay then? I didn’t hear a protest against that.”

The incoherent snarls that reach my ears is heavenly. I _love_ winning.

* * *

 

“Details are inside the folder,” Heero tells us as he hands them over. There’s one for each of us, how special. “But the basics are simple enough to briefly cover.”

“Lay it on us, don’t be a tease,” I prod, and promptly ignore his annoyed glance.

“People have been vanishing from a small tourist town nearby, their bodies turning up months later,” he explains. “The reason Winner is asking for our assistance is the state of the corpses. For being missing for months, they lack signs of natural decay.”

“What if they’d been alive until then?” I point out, and Heero shakes his head.

“Time of death is unknown, the state of their bodies show that they should still be alive. The other detail is in the first photo inside the folder.”

I flip it open curiously, before slamming it closed again. Eww, I don’t think I want to do this.

“Duo, we’ll be needing your expertise in this,” Heero reminds me. Yeah, you don’t need to tell me twice.

The circle carved into the back of the corpse (it’s so much easier to call them that then ‘the dead person’) shows why I’m being dragged along. I know my purpose here.

“We’ll be leaving as soon as Winner arrives, he has secured transportation and lodging for us. I have informed him of your presence here already, Barton,” he tells Trowa, getting a nod back in return. I don’t mention to Heero that Quatre probably already knew he was here, since I don’t want to shatter Heero’s fragile ego or anything like that.

I ignore the little voice in the back of my mind, whispering ‘ _liar_ ’ at me. I can be stubborn too!

“Duo, if you could step into my office for a minute, I have some information I’d like to discuss,” Heero finishes, standing up from his chair. I push off of my desk, following him slowly. I don’t know what he’s doing, having never needed to be ‘discussed’ outside the presence of Wufei or other guests. Honestly, I have no clue what he wants.

Fuck trying to read Quatre, Heero’s impossible to even try.

“So, what’s so damn important you’ve gotta drag me off?” I ask him, stealing the chair at his desk. It’s a lot softer than mine. Bastard.

“I’m giving you the only warning you’ll have before we go,” he starts, dropping the file on his desk. The resulting ‘smack’ rings in my ears, more threatening than the man who dropped it.

“Control yourself.  Your body cannot take another possession right now.”

“I’m trying! I don’t exactly wave a sign that says ‘free vessel here!’, y’know?” I point out, but Heero shakes his head.

“Not only that. I... I cannot say for certain that you’re currently alone in your mind. Your state of unconsciousness at the end of the last incident leaves much to question. Your resulting attitude, despite being similar to your regular display, is still off. Whether that’s due to your current change in living situations, trauma from the last case, or past trauma resurfacing I don’t know, but the option that you’re still possessed is not off the table either.”

“...You’re a fuckin’ stalker.”

“You’ve mentioned that,” Heero points out, brushing aside my accusation. “Keep me informed of anything unusual. You know how your mind and emotions work, if you find yourself being more reactive in any way, let me know. If I’m not available for any reason, inform Wufei. He’s also going to be observing you during this case. If it weren’t for the drawings on the bodies, you wouldn’t be joining us.”

“I’m not stupid, I know my uses,” I snap, and a leveled glare from Heero has me biting my tongue.

“Then keep that in mind when I’m giving an order.” He pulls his door open, motioning for me to leave. “Oh, and Duo?”

“Hmm?” I turn to face him. His face is blank.

“Try to be appropriate. If you must try to copulate with Barton, do so with more discretion.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I bite out, pulling the door closed forcefully behind me.

It isn’t until I’ve finished making lunch that what Heero said sinks in.

God damn it, that’s what they’ve been hiding. I’m still possessed.

Fuck this all to Hell.

* * *

 

The trip out is quiet, well, as quiet as it can be with five men shoved into one van.  I’m not giving my input though, trying to figure out if I’m still carrying around some dead soul with me. How does one even figure that out? I _feel_ normal enough, so does that mean that Heero’s wrong?

Of course, _telling_ Heero that he’s being a dumbass isn’t the smartest thing to do. I keep my doubts to myself.

Why didn’t they let me know sooner? Wasn’t being knocked out for two months enough of a reason? I don’t think Mayami’s still floating around in my head somewhere, she’s easy enough to notice (not to mention she can’t stay quiet to save her life-- er, afterlife).

So that leaves the _thing_. Demon. Whatever.

Solo’d be having a field day if he were here. And damn it, I don’t want to think of _him_ right now!

The salt-tainted air is the first sign of the ocean, the view hidden from sight by trees and buildings. I’m sure I’ll get to see it soon enough, but I’m not very excited.

It’s just a big-ass piece of water, really. Nothing to get worked up about.

I help Heero and Wufei unload the equipment, a small vacation house being our base of operation.  It’s not too bad, even if there’s sand all over the floor. But this is the ocean, there’s sand _everywhere_. When the standards of the set-up meet Heero’s specifications, I retreat to the living room to read the case file in more detail.

Eighteen people confirmed missing, four bodies found. Fourteen still missing, dating back a year from the first person. Holy shit, this guy works fast.

And one detail Heero fuckin’ forgot to mention, they’re all _kids_.

* * *

 

“This doesn’t make sense,” I snarl, dropping into a chair beside Heero. He doesn’t even look over at me, instead shoving a plate in my direction. I take it, biting into a piece of bread with an overwhelming viciousness.

“They’re children! There’s not many uses for them in this type of shit.”

“What about a trade, like Mariemaia’s grandfather attempted?”

“Too many kids. Besides, he fucked that up by thinking a child’s soul’s more desired than any other. Demons and shit don’t care either way. This fucker would know that, if he knows how to do this right.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Heero asks, and I shrug.

“Then nothin’ too bad’ll happen, an’ whatever the fuck he’s trying to do ain’t gonna work like he wants. He’ll kill himself off in the end, an’ case closed.”

“That’s the best-case scenario, I’m guessing.” I nod, and Wufei asks me quietly, “What’s the worst-case?”

“Couldn’t tell ya. I don’t know what this fucker’s trying to do yet.”

“So that’s our only-case scenario right now,” Trowa puts in his two cents. I look down at my dinner, my stomach rolling.

“I’m calling it a night,” I mumble, standing back up. I ignore the stares they’re giving me in favour of escaping their curiousity.

I can’t do this. Not right now.

I go to slam the door behind me, but it’s met with resistance. A hand grabs my wrist, jerking me back against them.

“Trowa, I can’t--”

“You need to calm down,” he cuts me off, pulling me back out into the hallway. He doesn’t lead me back to the main quarters, instead pulling me further down the hall to a flight of stairs. We move up them, neither of us saying a word. His hand never leaves my skin, and I focus on that instead of the confusing question of ‘what the fuck is he doing?’

There isn’t a second floor, but instead a large attic space that spans the entire house. It’s dusty, but both of us ignore that as he pulls me further into the room.  When he finally lets me go, I’m seated on an old sofa, the white sheet covering it tossed on the floor nearby.

“What’s going on? And don’t tell me nothing,” he snaps, showing his frustration with me. I close my mouth - as that was exactly what I was going to say - and meekly curl up. “First you show up at my house, completely drunk and delirious, then throw a hissy fit the next morning. Now you’re being more emotional than my sister on her period, and you’re not dealing with it!”

“I _can’t_ deal with it! Not right now!” I snap, deeply insulted. I’m _not_ as bad as a woman! ...Am I?

“You need to, or else you’ll endanger this case. This isn’t a game, Duo!”

“I know that! Okay?!” I shout, jerking away from him. “I fuckin’ know this ain’t a game! There’s kids missin’, prob’ly bein’ killed for some shit that ain’t ever gonna work!”

“You seem positive that’s how this will end,” he points out, and I snarl.

“That’s how it _will_ end!”

“Because that’s how your brother died.”

My eyes close, the sharp pain of his words cutting across my mind deeply. This is why I don’t want to think of it. God damn it.

“Don’t--”

“I will, if it’s what it will take to get you to pull yourself together,” he interrupts. A hand, most unwelcome, rests on my shoulder heavily. “They believe you to be possessed still, which might be true for all I know, but that’s not what’s driving this anger. It’s your brother.”

“Five days,” I murmur, my voice barely louder than Trowa’s breathing. “Five more days.”

“Can you last that long?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, and I’m soon wrapped in a hug. Trowa’s freakishly tall self is able to wrap me up very well, my head resting in the hollow of his neck. I cling to him, trying my damn best to ignore anything else.

I can’t deal with this. Not now. But I sure as hell can try to forget it.

* * *

 

_“Don’t do this.” My plea goes unanswered. A brush, tainted forever, drags along the stone surface. My voice cracks as I ask again. “Please!”_

_“I’m so close,” he whispers, excited. He’s the only one who feels that way. The terror and_ wrongness _is clouding my senses. “I’ve finally done it.”_

_“No you didn’t!” I scream, feeling my eyes burning. The smoke’s so heavy, it’s hard to breathe. I cough, pleading again. “Just stop!”_

_“I can’t, not now.”_

* * *

 

“Is the possession fueling this?”

Heero’s voice is soft, not loud enough to have woken me without help. My nightmares did that for me, but I sleep like the dead (or look like I do anyways), so I listen instead to what they’re saying. Trowa’s still holding me, I can feel him breathing under my ear.

“No, it’s his own emotions. If the demon’s still doing anything, it’s magnifying what’s already there. Oddly, it’s not doing much damage, for being a demon.”

“Look at the man who’s carrying it,” Heero mutters, and Trowa snorts lightly.

“Good point. I wouldn’t press him to talk, he just about went off the deep end earlier. This wasn’t the best case to drag him out on right now.”

“I dicn’’t have a choice. Wufei only knows the theory, where Duo knows more of the practice and the defenses.”

“I understand. Just don’t ask more of him than he can give you right now.”

“...Acknowledged. His participation will be light, merely a consultant.”

“That’s for the best. He should be able to pull himself together by the weekend.”

“Mmm, gimme some cred’ man, I can do better,” I yawn, stretching. I can feel the tension in Trowa’s body as I do this, and can’t help but grin.

Heero drags me back into reality though. “I don’t know what is affecting you right now, and I very much doubt you’re willing to share. Don’t let it affect what I need from you, and I will not press the issue.”

“Got it,” I reply, giving a mocking salute. He rolls his eyes, standing up from where he’d been crouching.

“Come down when you’re ready. And be considerate, there’s others in the building too.”

I flush, raising my middle finger to his retreating back. I slump after he’s out of sight, sighing.

“He’s never gonna let me live that down,” I whine, turning to look up into Trowa’s face. He’s clearly amused by my agony.

“That’s what happens when you’re caught in a dark hallway by your boss,” he points out, and I growl.

“That’s _your_ fault! You started it!”

“But did you stop it?” he defends, that damn smirk on his face that I hate so much. I can’t say ‘yes,’ because I obviously didn’t.

“So now, you must live with the consequences,” he teases, his nose brushing against my own. Damn, but have I ever mentioned how _flexible_ the guy is?

Oooh, bad mental image. I toss the thought aside as much as I can, focusing on the argument at hand.

“I don’t do consequences,” I mutter, my eyes crossing to focus on Trowa’s nose. It’s waaay too close for comfort.

“Oh?” Trowa pulls back, pushing on me. I obligingly move off of him, my legs wobbling for a moment before supporting me. It’s much darker in here than I first thought, but my attention had been elsewhere...

“I doubt you want to spend the night up here. Go get showered and get some real sleep.”

He leaves, and I just watch him walk away.

I hate the ‘working Trowa,’ he’s not as much fun.

* * *

 

Sleep didn’t come easily, a mess between nightmares and fantasies plaguing me all night. No one comments on my messy appearance as I pull a box of cereal out of the cupboard, digging around for a bowl and spoon.

“I have data for you to review, I am hoping for you to be able to make a logical connection between the victims.”

“Are they random?” I ask absently, grabbing onto the dangling line of distraction. Aha! Finding a bowl, I rummage for a spoon before stealing a spot at the table, pouring the sugary goodness into the bowl. Trowa slides the milk my direction, and I stare at it for a moment before remembering it goes with the cereal.

I don’t use milk very often, it’s easy to forget.

“At first glance, they seem to be. But I am not experienced enough in this particular field to know the requirements for suitable sacrifices--”

“If that’s what they are,” I correct him, and he nods.

“If they are sacrifices. I need your knowledge to help discern the truth.”

“Got it. In the base room, right?”

“Yes. The table under the window has all the information you need. I left a computer in there in case additional research is required.”

“Got it,” I mumble around my spoon, frowning at the taste. The milk made my cereal soggy, and I don’t think I can eat it. I push the bowl away, sighing.

“Well, better get started,” I decide, dumping my bowl in the sink.

Figures Trowa would manage to ruin my breakfast too. Asshole.

The promised papers are where Heero claimed they would be, along with the laptop as well. Sighing, I drop into the cushiony swivel chair, letting myself spin around a couple of times before stopping and getting to work.  No matter how much of a dick my boss is, he’s still worth working for.

I lose track of time as I read over the lives of the missing kids, or as much of their lives as we could dig up. None of them knew each other (except a set of twins, because they’re obviously related), don’t share a common background, weren’t all part of the same after-school club, didn’t have the same favorite subject in school, talents across the board... their common link is definitely missing.

“Maybe the guy’s just a sick bastard,” I grumble, placing the missing children in order. Still nothing that shows up as odd. I place the four ‘recovered’ children in order at the front, and I frown.

Something’s not right here.

I push away from my table, running by the living room where the others are gathered at. I can’t hear what they’re talking about, but I don’t stop to poke in and bother them. I brought pretty much all that I own with me, since there’s nowhere else to keep it right now, and I’m hoping I didn’t leave the book I need back at my old flat.

Throwing open the side of the van, I pull one of my duffel’s over, unzipping the top to peek inside. Clothes. Wrong one. I shove it away, pulling the other one over. Yup, here are some books. I lug the bag out, teetering slightly. A hand steadies me, while another one shuts the door for me (thankfully).

“Did you find something?”

Ah, there he is. Good ol’ dependable Heero, the classic workaholic. I’m fine, no that wasn’t my hair tangled in the zipper and pulling at my scalp. No, the bag isn’t too heavy, but thanks for asking.

“Maybe. I have to double-check. I hope to every deity in existence I’m wrong,” I breathe that last part, stumbling slightly as the hand keeping me steady shifts to propel me back to the house.

I hurry back to my desk, where the faces I’ve come to memorize stare back at me, their expressions furling my frantic search through my bag. Frustrated, I turn the bag upside down, ignoring Wufei’s reaction to my lack of care of the precious contents. Scattering them across the floor, I search for the books I need.

Hah! There’s one! I snatch it, tossing it up on the table while still searching for the other two. Quickly locating them - and blessing my great stroke of luck in having them on me! - I kick the others aside and start turning pages. Reaching the page easily, the corners worn and ripped, smudged prints littering the surface, I read it more from habit than necessity, memories I’d rather forget surfacing once more.

“Chang, page 147 in the red book. Yuy, 66 in the black one. You’ll know what I need when you see it.” I set my own book aside, rearranging the pages that have the kid’s info on them into the order that they would make sense. Grabbing a pen, I quickly glance over the book’s page before making a mark on the first page in front of me.

It has a check.

The next four have checks, the sixth page I mark receiving a cross in the corner. Two more crosses follow, before another check comes along. The rest have crosses on them, and I grab the book Chang has in front of him before picking up my pen again and going over the pages once more.

It doesn’t take me long to go through them this time, the others quietly observing my work. I slump into my seat, letting out a shaky breath as I gently close the two books, only leaving the one Heero has in front of him open.

“Well? Is your theory correct?” Wufei asks me, and I grimace.

“Yeah, it is.”

“...Is that a good thing?” Quatre asks timidly, and I close my eyes.

“No. This is probably the last thing I want to deal with right now. Especially right now.” I can feel the silence becoming tense, the pressure and reality sinking into my skin.

I don’t want to deal with this. I can’t deal with this right now. I _can’t_.

Not so close to his anniversary. I can’t relive this moment again.

“Relax, Duo,” Heero’s murmuring, sliding his chair next to mine. He picks up the papers I’d been scribbling on, reading over the information I’ve marked.

“Wufei, you know the theory of Necrology. What kind of offering needs twelve individuals of different ages?” Heero asks, and Wufei swallows, caught off guard.

“I... I haven’t studied that much into Necrology, I can only claim basic information in that.” Trowa steps forward, pointing to another mark I’ve made on the page.

“It’s not just ages. It also holds base in astrology. This is much more complicated then any Necrology taught in theoretical texts. You either have to be very experienced or very foolish to attempt to merge astrology and Chinese arts into Necromancy.”

At Heero’s questioning glance, Trowa shrugs lightly. “I dabbled into Necromancy as a youth. Didn’t last long. I’m too squeamish.”

I snort, not believing a word of it. He grins at me, pulling back to reclaim ‘his’ spot on the wall.

“The... the use of both zodiac and star signs is only necessary when trying to summon a being below the 4th level of Hell. The deeper you’re calling, the more blood required. This fucker took twelve signs, he has all he needs right now to complete it, ‘cept alignment.”

“When will he be able to get that?” Heero asks, and I close my eyes.

“Five days.”

* * *

 

“So, campers!” I clap my hands, a cheerful smile plastered onto my face. I get four skeptical glances, varying in degree. Trowa knows the most, being a sneaky creepy fucker, and Heero - I’d guess - doesn’t care (more insulted that I’m treating him like a child) what the fuck I’m doing (taking over, more or less, if I’m being honest). The other two are easy to ignore, while I tap my hand on a map spread over the dining table.

“We’re looking for somewhere large, dark, cold, underground most likely, and solid. He needs several surfaces to draw on, so I’d guess a cavern of some type. In this area, it’d have to be far inland or man-made.”

“Like a basement?” Trowa questions, glancing at where my hand’s randomly pointing to. It’s about ten miles off the beach. I move my hand to hover over land, though I’m still not pointing anywhere helpful.

“Yeah, something like that. It has to stay dry and out of sight. Water’d wipe the blood away, and we’d know where it is by now if someone could see it.”

“I’m still confused though,” Quatre admits, and I glance over at him. Flushing, he continues, “You say he needs 12 people, but he took eighteen.”

“Well, he picked some wrong people,” I point out, though I’m really the only person who fully understands it. “A couple had the same Zodiac signs, so one was useless even though they had different star signs. The twins are Gemini, so he needs both of them. Twins work the best for that mark.” Having their attention, I revel in the rare position of knowing more than they do. “The dragon he took was too young to have all the blood he needed, so he took another child with the same star sign _and_ zodiac sign to compensate for his mistake.”

“And the bodies already found, how are they related? Did he decide he didn’t need them?”

“No, it’s a mistake on his part that they were found, but they’re currently active,” I swallow, a bit of bile rising in my throat. I continue talking anyways, despite my unwillingness. “The body, even though it’s dead, still has a useable soul... the marks on their bodies have them connected to the ritual. ‘Cause the bodies are evidence right now, they’re still whole; that’s pretty nice fer the fucker.”

“If we burned the bodies...?” Wufei suggests, and I shake my head.

“It ain’t _that_ easy. We’re talkin’ _fourteen_ bodies for one rit’.” My speech slurs, and I bite my lip, trying to focus better. “Mayami was only in a pair, and the circles hadda be dispelled first. The soul’d be linked to the ashes, an’ we’d neva break it.”

“So pyromancy isn’t useful in this situation,” Heero notes, jotting something down in that damn notebook of his.

“If it were, Necromancy wouldn’t be such a danger,” I muse, closing my eyes. If it were that simple, Solo’d still be here with me.

“We should use the time we have to find the location being used,” Heero decides, and I nod. That’s about all we can do, unless the motherfucker decides to come knockin’ on the door and leads us there with open arms (or intends to kill us, which is much more likely now that I’m thinking about it).

“Duo, you will remain here.  With circumstances as they are--”

“Oh _fuck_ no,” I snarl, standing up and looking straight into his eyes. He meets my stare with his own, not backing down. “I’m going to find this fucker, and rip him a new one so large a Minotaur’d be able to assrape him.”

Quatre blanches, probably at the mental image, where Wufei just reddens. Trowa seems amused, where Heero is _not_.

“You’ve shown increasing signs of instability and trauma, along with the fact that you’re still recuperating from the last case. You need to back away from this. When you can prove to me you won’t behave irrationally and compromise our operation, you will be allowed to participate in full capacity again.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I hiss, my temper snapping. How _dare_ he suggest I’d fuck this up for them?! I get two good punches in before hands are pulling me back, not letting me go and kill him like I _really_ want to.

“Wufei, now would be a good time--”

I feel a crushing pressure against my chest, and my world crashes into white.

* * *

 

It’s dark when I wake up again. The sounds of the waves crashing over the beach is all I hear, loud and echoing in my head. A single light, a burning candle, is next to my bed; the only light breaking the pitch black darkness coming from outside.

“Welcome back,” I hear someone whisper quietly, mindful of the intense pressure trying to break out of my skull. My throat is dry and scratchy, and I find a freezing damp solid piece of something slipping past my lips and into my mouth.

 _Ice_ , I realize as I start sucking on it before deciding to do so. My body knows what it wants more than my mind does, and the figure slips another sliver of ice past my unresisting lips. As I become more aware, it isn’t hard to figure out who’s sitting by my side.

Trowa.

“It’s only been a few hours,” he tells me, seeming to understand what I want to know. Though it can’t be hard to guess; the last time I was knocked out unwillingly, it’d been a couple _months_ before I woke back up. Never hurts to check for a repeat performance, now does it?

“I have some good news,” he continues, pushing some more ice into my mouth. I suck it in, devouring the melting liquid and silently demanding more. My throat is burning, the water absorbing much too quickly for me.

“You’re not possessed anymore. Heero drew the demon out enough for Wufei to exorcise it. That’s probably why your head feels ready to split in two.”

I sag back, relief spreading through me. So there _was_ a reason Wufei karate-chopped my fuckin’ ribs! I might be able to forgive him now, maybe. Probably. Oh hell, I know I’m going to, after giving him a hard time about it; the guy’s too much _fun_ to stay mad at forever. I don’t think I’m capable of holding a grudge that long, anyway.

“Heero is fine as well, a bit of bruising but otherwise intact.” Oh good. I’d hate to get fired for breaking my boss’ face in.  A large part of me’s disappointed though; he fuckin’ deserved it.

“They’re out looking for the ritual site,” Trowa finishes, setting down the cup he was holding. _Don’t do that_ , I think, longingly staring at the cup. _I still want some!_

“For now, you’re my prisoner,” Trowa finishes, a grin playing around the edges of his stoic face. My eyes widen, blinking. “I get the honor of making sure you don’t try to wander off and do something completely moronic.”

“I--” I cough, my throat closing on me in complete betrayal. After a good few pounds on my back, courtesy of Trowa, I try talking again. “I’m not... gonna... do nothin...”

“No, that you aren’t,” Trowa agrees, putting his feet up on the mattress and leaning back. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure that’s exactly what you do.”

“...Traitor,” I grouch, turning away from him. I hear him chuckle, barely a breath, before I go back to sleep. My head’s still killing me.

* * *

 

_“Don’t do it!” I scream, my words going unheard. Solo stands up, triumph and desire gleaming in his eyes. He looks over at me, a look of longing and insanity mingling on his face._

_“I will do this! I_ have _to! I can’t fail, not now,” he insists, spreading his arms. “I have_ God _on my side!”_

_“This is wrong!” I choke on a sob, my vision blurring. I blink it back, trying to not let any tears falls. Boys don’t cry, after all._

_“No, little brother,” he says softly, “_ you’re _wrong. I’m the only one who can.”_

 _“This isn’t what_ He _wanted you to do! You’ve already done His work! Don’t anger Him!” I try to reach the sensible,_ sane _part of my only brother, my only family, but I’m invisible to him, unimportant._

_Replaceable._

* * *

 

I convince Heero to let me join them in the search on the fourth day. With only one more day left, we need as many eyes looking as we can. Not to mention I’ll be able to figure out which places are more likely than others, since _I’m_ the expert here.

When I stumble across a hole that definitely doesn’t belong, I make a mental note to rub this victory into Heero’s black eye (oh yeah, totally proud of that!).

Clicking on my walkie-talkie, I give a cheerful announcement of my discovery.

“You’re _joking_ ,” Wufei’s voice crackles over the line, completely miffed. I grin, even though they can’t see it. I know they’ll _hear_ it, and that’s all that matters.

“Nope! One totally unnatural man-made hole, found by yours truly!”

“Don’t go in. Wait for our arrival. We don’t know if he is down there, or what other dangers might be present.”

“Gotcha,” I reply, letting the box turn off. I sit down on one of the broken stumps, getting comfortable. I don’t know how long they’ll take to get here, and I’m sure as hell not standing around while they take their sweet time.

As I suspect, it’s almost an hour before they get here, though the time is more acceptable when I see they went back to go get their gear. It’d probably be best to make sure we can get out (or stay alive long enough to get back out) after we go down there.

The trip isn’t quick. The glowing numbers on Heero’s watch keep passing, the tunnel still moving onward. We have to be a couple of miles from where we started, at _least_. We’re sure as hell a good ways away from the tourist trap.

When I feel like I’m about to have a fit of claustrophobia (which I’ve _never_ had an issue with before), the narrow tunnel starts to grow wider, a faint, sickly sweet scent tickling my nose. I grimace slightly, turning my flashlight back on (Heero had us turn them off to conserve the batteries, only using his to make sure we didn’t tumble into a deep abyss).

When we reach a dark, solid mass of wood, I breathe a sigh of relief. _Finally_.

Wufei and Trowa manhandle the door open, and the stale, rotting air inside blasts outward against us. I’m overcome by the sudden desire to relocate my stomach through my mouth, but resist the urge; it smells bad enough in here already.

“What _is_ this?” Quatre asks, perplexed. He drags the beam of the flashlight slowly across the wall, the dark brown symbols reflecting eerily back. The scent of blood is overwhelming in the small chamber, and I slow my breathing, drawing in shallow breaths to try not to taste the blood.

“I cannot tell, there is not enough light.” Heero, efficient and blunt as always, moves closer to where Quatre is shining the light, inspecting the messy trails of blood.

“There’s another hallway!” Wufei calls from the darkness, another flash of light giving away his position.

“Quatre, Trowa, go search the area; there might be more rooms down here.”

“Got it,” Quatre says, turning towards where Wufei is guiding the light. Wufei moves back into the room, unknowingly mimicking the same movements that Quatre had done before leaving.

“There might be candles, torches, lamps,” I say absently, examining the walls with my own light. “They would provide enough light to look at the whole room.”

“How do you know that?” Wufei snaps, irritated.

“I doubt that the sick fuck did this blindly in the dark. And _these_ types of rituals usually need natural light - which includes fire, dumbass.”

“And again, _how_ do you know that?”

“Well, scientists decided that fire--”

“Not that! The ritual! How do you know _this_ is the ritual?”

“You were the one who had me organize th’library. I got bored, there was good reading, and there y’go.”

“Stop arguing and find whatever light sources were left behind,” Heero breaks in blandly, lifting his radio up and pressing twice on the button. A moment later, Trowa’s soft voice sounds over the two-way radio.

“Barton.”

“Status?”

“There’s only one other room here,” Quatre answers, ignoring the protocol Heero and Trowa seem determined to use. “It looks almost like yours, but a bit smaller.”

“Look for a light source. Duo believes that candles, torches, or lamps were used to provide natural light. He also believes this is the ritual we’ve been after, so keep your eyes out for any evidence supporting or denying that.”

“Affirmative.” Static blares for a moment, before his voice comes through again. “Quatre located a large bullet lamp. Look in the corners.”

“Found one!” I shout, holding up a large metal lamp. The light in my hand shines through the large holes cut in both sides.

“Confirmed. Yuy out.”

“Barton out.”

There end up being eight lamps, two hooks on each wall allowing them to be hung up. I, luckily, always carry a lighter on me, as Heero and Wufei don’t have any other way to light the lamps. With the room dimly but efficiently lit, the horrifying artwork becomes clear.

“Is this really it? It doesn’t look like any ritual I’ve studied,” Wufei mutters, examining the symbols and lines connecting different groups. My throat is dry, my shaking hand pressing flat against the only blank section of wall. I ignore the crackling of the radio as Quatre’s panicked voice sounds out.

“It’s definitely a summoning ritual,” I whisper, my words echoed by Quatre. Heero sharply turns to look at me, while Wufei snatches the radio up, responding.

“For what?”

“Trowa says it’s incomplete, there’s something missing.”

“The time, it’s missing the time, the time to come to our plane,” I answer vaguely, tracing a dry finger across the cement. Blinking, the red line that follows my finger vanishes, back into my memories.

“Is it necessary to have that?” Heero asks me quietly, watching my hand tracing the wall. I nod slowly, sweeping my hand across the wall and placing it flat on top of a tangle of the bloody writing.

“Reason. Intention. Demand.” My hand moves further, feet carrying me to the next mess of symbols.

“Who. For who. Who is to be called here.” Heero watches as I turn to the next wall, where the intricate symbols form a weave around a single character.

“Who. Who is intended to be visited. Who has caused such feelings as so to draw Him from the other realm.”

Wufei’s watching quietly, his hand clenching tightly against the radio. Touching the wall next to him, he asks, “What of these?”

“Who. Who is calling. Who is requesting Him.”

“And these?” Heero touches the last wall, the one that falls away from the twisted patterns and markings adorning the other three walls.

“Where. Where to go. Where to exact the demands requested. Where to start, where to end, where to return.”

“So we are just missing ‘When,’ the time that the demon is to act?”

“Not a demon,” I mutter, tracing the symbols by my hand. I turn, looking Heero in the eye. My voice is matched by Trowa’s over the radio as we both speak.

“He’s not calling a demon. He’s calling a _god_.”


	6. Case 5 (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the case finishes itself, Duo's in-laws invade, said in-laws reveal unwanted information, and Duo schools everyone.
> 
> Notice: no alcohol was consumed during the creation of this segment, though I can’t say the same for chocolate or coffee… :)

_“I’ll be your big brother, okay?”_

_I shift, watching the strange boy inch closer to me. His eyes are wide, as scared of me as I am of him.  But I’m alone, I need him. So I stretch out my bruised and battered arm, letting his larger hand wrap around my little, broken fingers._

_“Okay, Brother,” I whisper. The smile he gives me lights up my soul._

_I let him pull me to my feet, my legs shaking horribly. My head hurts, and my chest hurts, but the closer I move to the strange boy, the better I feel. I lean against him, closing my eyes._

_He makes me feel_ whole _. I like this feeling._

* * *

 

_“Does it matter how old the goat is?” I mumble, pushing the ragged farm animal further into the room. Solo looks over at me with a shrug, concentrating on his picture._

_“He doesn’t care about the age of an animal. However, humans are different. Age is very important,” he answers, and I scowl._

_“I just feel weird doin’ this. I mean, if I’m gonna snatch somethin’, can’t it be somethin’ useful?”_

_“This_ is _useful,” Solo snaps, and I shut my mouth._

_Solo’s always been weird, but he’s never done anything too bad. It’s only a few animals, and they aren’t worth much._

* * *

 

_“What was her name?” I ask, picking up the pieces scattered on the floor. Solo doesn’t answer, his face stony and blank. I accept the fact that he won’t answer me, and pick up another piece. I ignore the blue eyes staring at me hatefully from the broken skull, another face I will never know._

* * *

 

_“This thing’s weird,” I tell Solo, poking the small, demonic... thing. It’s trapped within the barrier, but it’s Solo’s first success, after ten years of trying. I can feel Solo’s displeasure though, radiating like a beacon behind me. He wanted more than this little monster, but he’s not powerful enough._

_I hope he learns this before we get ourselves killed._

* * *

 

_“Hey gor’gus,” the man slurs in my general direction. I feel naked, the way his eyes wander over my skanky clothes, but that’s what they’re for. Remembering Solo’s orders, I give him my most ‘charming’ smile, which I can see visibly hooking and reeling him in._

_“How ‘bout you’n’me go somewhere... a lil’ more private?” I whisper into his ear, leaning my cold body against his overly warm one. His hand grabs my ass, and I resist the urge to stab him._

_“Sure, kid,” he agrees eagerly. I grin at him, pulling at one of his hands with both of mine. I lead him out of the seedy bar, and into the dingy alley where Solo’s waiting for us._

_I drop to my knees, and I feel the man’s breath hitch. I wink up at him, and push back away from him at the same time Solo brings the bat down on the fool’s skull. I watch him crumple, snatching the coat Solo’s holding out for me._

_“Good choice,” Solo compliments me. I ignore him in favour of throwing up near the dumpster. The sick fucker_ groped _me._

_This will be the first man I don’t feel bad about sacrificing to the cause._

* * *

 

_“Don’t do this,” I plead to Solo, my wrists straining against the chains holding me in place. My cries go unanswered, as Solo keeps working around me. A brush, forever stained, drags along the stone surface, marking it with symbols and runes that I can read as well as English. My voice cracks as I cry out to my big brother again._

_“Please!” It’s no use though; when Solo is working, there’s no stopping him. When he finally looks up at me, his eyes are filled with madness._

_“I’m so close,” he whispers, excited. He’s the only one who feels that way, because for me the terror and_ wrongness _is suffocating. “I’ve finally done it. Don’t you understand, little brother? I can finally fulfill my purpose in life.”_

 _“No you didn’t!” I scream, feeling my eyes burning. “You didn’t do it! Can’t you feel it?! This isn’t what_ He _wants you to do!” The incense burning next to me is choking; the smoke’s so thick in the room it’s making it hard to breathe. I cough, pleading again. “Just stop!”_

_“I can’t, not now.” It doesn’t matter who I am at this point, that I’m his brother. All Solo wants is his glory back._

* * *

 

“Is he breathing?” I hear someone ask, the words distorted. It sounds like my head’s shoved under water, and that people are still trying to shout at me while I’m drowning.

“Yes.”

“What happened?” A soft, kind voice. _A liar’s voice_ , my mind tells me as it starts working again.

“Trauma to the soul,” another voice speaks, this one familiar in a way that makes my chest hurt and my stomach revolt. Several hands quickly turn me onto my side as my stomach wins, another pair of hands lifting me so as to not let me sink back into the pile of sick beneath my head.

“Oww, wha’da fuck?”

“Welcome back, again,” the first voice - Wufei, my aching brain recalls - tells me, sarcasm dripping so heavily from his voice I can feel it falling on my skin.

“Get him out of the water,” Heero orders, and I feel the drops stop falling on my skin.

Oh, so it _wasn’t_ sarcasm falling on me.

“Fuckin’ hell,” I groan, my body catching up with my brain. The aches and pains that hadn’t existed until just this moment flare up over my skin, and I bite back a scream as my nerve endings come to life. I feel my nails dig into my arms, sinking in to relieve the pain underneath before more hands are prying me away from myself.

“His skin’s still freezing,” Trowa - the one voice I’d be happy to never remember - comments, and I snort, frustrated with the words being tossed over my head (literally!).

“‘M always freezin’, dude. Nothin’ new,” I snap, “‘n if ya’d have asked, I’da told ye that.”

“I apologize, you have not been coherent for the last twenty minutes; at least, not coherent enough to respond to questions,” he drawls, patting my arm. The contact sends bolts of pain through me, and I feel my teeth cut through my lip as I stifle the sound of his victory.

Fucking. Bastard.

“Stop tormenting my employee, Barton,” Heero blandly requests, and Trowa backs off. I know he’ll come back later though; he always does.

“How far back do you remember?” Heero’s asking me, and I focus on my boss. I close my eyes, trying to think back past the wave of memories best left forgotten. There’s the hole, the tunnel, the twin rooms, the symbols on the wall mocking me, the empty space that’s yet to be filled...

“There’s a part of the ritual missing,” I breathe out, rolling onto my side (away from the little smelly pile of puke) and opening my eyes. The blank space stares back at me, taunting me with its memory.

“You said that the necromancer was missing the When portion of the ritual,” Quatre reminds me so helpfully, and I laugh.

“ _When, oh when will you come to me, my lovely little sparrow? For the dawn will soon be here, and I’m afraid I will not,_ ” I sing, my head tilting back and forth as I recall the tune I’d only heard once before. A little girl had sung it, right before Solo cut her heart out.

Oh yeah, I’m trying to forget about that.

A hand presses against my chest, and I feel my breath catch. The pain lessens enough to draw me back to the present, and I blink up into steady green eyes.

“You’ve fractured more of your soul. You should get that checked out,” Trowa suggests, and I can’t help the laughter that escapes me. I know I’m growing hysterical, but I can’t help it. As if it were that easy; like showing up to a clinic and asking for a fix-it-all.

“Hey doc, can I get a pill that’ll put my soul back t’gether?”

I don’t realize I’m saying my thoughts aloud, but a hand pressing over my mouth and muttered words above me gives it away. I don’t care though; I’m too caught up in my mirth and terror to give a shit.

My laughter stops suddenly, a ringing through my skull catching my focus. A piece of the wall flexes back in my vision, before the tainted air changes just enough to bring a quiet smile to my face. I see the two in my sight watching me warily, the other missing two behind me. They probably think I’ve lost my mind, but I don’t care; I feel calmer than I have since coming to this goddamn place.

“The ritual’s dying,” I tell them, an overwhelming sense of peace filling me. The wrong is being righted; blood for blood.

We can go home soon.

* * *

 

“Seriously, all that shit I had to go through, and some lucky bastard blew the fucker’s brains out,” I snort, throwing the newspaper down. All of the bodies were recovered, only the twin Gemini girls having survived the horrific ‘slaughter’ of the necromancer-wannabe. Wannabe went to go get the last piece he needed, and got caught by the kid’s paranoid dad. Ten seconds after, case closed on the ‘whodunit’ half.

It wasn’t as easy to clean up the ‘other half’ though. While the ritual couldn’t be completed because Wannabe was dead, it was still mostly-active. It took another week of torture and elbow grease to erase enough of the marks properly to completely deactivate it. Not to mention tracking down the active bodies, and making sure the other ten were turned off too.

“And you said we couldn’t just burn the guy to death,” Wufei mocks, and I flip him off without looking up from the article. Heero’s assigned me to read each article that came from the incident to make sure that no mentions of us, or the ritual, are in them. So far so good, from what I’ve seen.

“Says the guy who can’t follow directions,” I push back at him, reminding him of how he brought down an entire room because of his negligence. I can feel him stewing in his anger, and I grin triumphantly.

I’m feeling much calmer, now that Solo’s memories can sink back into the oblivion of my mind; for another year at least. It’s easier to ignore the fact that my brother was a total fucked-up-piece-of-shit when the date of his death isn’t haunting me.

“Well, Boss,” I call out, hearing Heero moving into my domain, “we don’t exist, according to the papers! I’m callin’ it safe.”

“Good. Now clean up this mess and go home.”

I cheer, shoving all the papers on my desk over the edge. The trash can is kindly waiting below the rain of newsprint, willingly catching the drifting sheets into its gaping maw.

“Goodbye, love,” I coo to Betty, rubbing her pot soothingly. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder!”

“Stop molesting the foliage and get out of here!” Wufei shouts at me, and I duck the shoe aimed for my head. Grinning, I wink at Betty.

“He just doesn’t understand why you don’t care for him anymore,” I whisper loudly, and make a break for it before the temptation to murder me becomes too much for the short-tempered man.

The early afternoon sun is beating down on me as I wander down the sidewalk, the breeze making me pull my jacket closer around my chilled body. With nowhere to go for several hours, I figure I’d unwind, maybe find a bar or two, make a new buddy who’d be willing to let me crash for a few nights...

“--lost?”

I blink, looking up from where I’d been watching my feet move on the concrete. Trowa’s standing there, holding out a jacket that’s much heavier than my own. I snatch it, before realizing he’s talking to me.

“Say what?” The smirk on his face makes me want to instinctively shove my fist into it.

“I asked if you were lost,” he repeats, and I shake my head.

“Can’t be lost, if I’m not really goin’ anywhere in particular,” I point out. He nods, accepting my awesome logic.

“Then come with me,” he suggests, and I raise an eyebrow.

“Why’d I wanna do that?” I ask seriously. The guy’s done nothing but torment and push all my buttons since I met him, and he thinks I’ll happily follow him like a puppy?

“Because I told you to,” he answers, his voice uncaring of my inner dialogue. Stumped, I give in with only one more complaint.

“Asshole.”

* * *

 

“Shoes off by the door, hang up the coat, and don’t put your feet on the furniture,” Trowa’s telling me as we enter the semi-familiar house. I obediently listen, but not without grumbling under my breath. A hand grabs my chin, swinging my face up to look directly into Trowa’s. He doesn’t look too pleased.

“You’re still too susceptible to outside suggestions. If you’d been working on your meditation, you’d have ignored me.”

I bristle, jerking my head to the side to dislodge Trowa’s fingers. The bastard--

“Trowa? Are you back already?” a woman’s voice calls from the back room, and I freeze. Oh. Hell. No.

“I’m leavin’,” I snap, spinning around quickly and snatching the doorknob. Strong hands grab my own, pulling me back and away from my salvation. I struggle vainly, my doom cemented as a very familiar woman wraps me up in her arms.

“Duo! It’s been forever!” she cries happily into my ear, the pitch high enough to make me flinch away from her.

“Yo,” I mumble, defeated. She tsks, pulling me towards the nearby sofa.

“Is that any way to greet your only sister?” she demands, and I correct her automatically.

“Sister-in-law.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still family.” _It does matter_ , I want to tell her, but I know she’ll ignore it. She ignores my arguments against anything related to the fact that our relationship is only connected by the fucker that ruined my life.

Her insistent stare makes me turn my head, looking instead at the amused face of the asshole who dragged me into this personalized hell.

“Catherine, calm down,” Trowa tells her, a hand touching her shoulder briefly before he takes the seat across from us. I’m still being grappled by the crazy bitch, who’s yet to realize it’s hard to breathe when she’s cutting off my air supply.

She listens to Trowa (why can’t she listen to me?) and releases me from the choke-hold, and I back up as far as I know she’ll let me. I study the two, unsure of why Cathy’s even here. As if reading my mind, she slaps me across the face.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?! Were you _hoping_ to drive yourself crazy?” she snaps, slapping me again. I catch her hand on the third strike, staring at her in pure bewilderment.

“What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout, woman?!”

“Your _soul_!” she shouts, wrenching her arm free. I watch it, making sure it isn’t going to start up its new hobby of beating my pretty face in. She’s still shouting at me, which reminds me I should be listening to her. “You told me you were fine, that nothing was wrong with you, and I had to learn from Trowa that you’re defunct!”

“You had enough shit to deal with,” I mumble, but my excuse goes unheard.

“How long?” she demands, and I shrug.

“A while,” I vaguely reply, and cringe as she raises her hand again threateningly. “Okay, crazy bitch, eight years!”

“... _The_ _entire time_?!”

I knew she wasn’t going to like my answer.

She spins in her seat, facing Trowa angrily. “How is this retard related to me?!”

“Marriage,” I remind her, and then suddenly recall how I didn’t want her attention on me.

“Which means that you can come to me for anything!” She has tears in her eyes, and I focus on anything but that. I’ll cave in too quickly if she pulls the waterworks out. And she knows that too, bitch.

“Catherine, you’re scaring him.” Trowa’s something I can focus on much easier, so I stare at him as he calms down my frantic sister-in-law. They’re much too comfortable with each other for me to be comfortable with, and I can’t help but let my curiosity take over my mouth.

“How do you two know each other?” Cathy’s startled by my question; she was never any good at hiding her expressions. Trowa’s flinching back now as her ire is immediately focused away from me.

“You-- you-- Gah, _men_!” She throws her hands up, before smacking Trowa across the back of his head. He throws his own hands up, ducking from her second blow.

“Duo, meet my brother, Trowa. Trowa, meet my brother, Duo. There, now that we’re all one big fucking happy family, let’s stop avoiding the issue of you hiding secrets that can kill you!” Oh great, now she’s talking to me again. My brain’s still stuck on the fact that I’ve sorta-kinda been making out with my brother-in-law, and of course, my mouth is still stuck back there with me.

“I-- you-- what--”

“Duo! Focus!” Cathy snaps, grabbing my chin from where I’d been staring at the way-too-amused Trowa Barton.

“Huh?” Yeah, I’m the master of words right now.

“You. Soul. Broken. _Dying_ ,” she reminds me, and I grin.

“Oh yeah, that.”

 _Oww, crazy bitch!_ my mind swears as she smacks me across the head again.

“Well, what did you think you could do ‘bout it?” I defend myself. “It’s my soul, ain’t exactly gonna find replacement parts over at the Home Depot.”

“You and Solomon aren’t the only ones who can break and mend souls, idiot.” It’s easy to see she’s not too happy with me. “When Rafael was born, I had to reattach his back to the body before he escaped.  I think piecing you together won’t be as trying.”

“Little Ralph?” I close my eyes, drawing in my head the picture of the three kids. “Which one is that?”

“The blond. Looks just like his father.” The fondness is unmistakable, and my little mental picture isolates the middle child. The oldest boy.

“So that makes the girl Helen, and the smallest brat Gabriel?”

“Oh, so you did get my package!” Cathy squeals, before glaring between me and Trowa. “So why did you not know Trowa’s my kid brother?”

“Because Trowa failed to mention it,” I point out helpfully, watching the taller man cringe away from the darkening look on her face.

Revenge is so sweet, I cackle mentally, slapping my little devious mind on the back.

“So you give him my letter, but fail to mention how you know me? Am I that horrible to be related to?” She’s starting to draw the tears back up, and I watch the panic start to settle on the other man’s face. Oh, it’s delicious to watch.

“That’s not--”

“I just want all of my family to get along, what little of it’s left, and from what that nice boy Heero Yuy’s been telling me--”

“You’ve talked to Heero?” I yelp, caught off-guard. She ignores me though, to continue her tirade against Trowa.

“--you two can’t go ten minutes without insulting or hurting each other. And now I find out that both of you neglected to even mention me! Am I that easy to forget? Am I that unneeded? I just want my boys to love me, to accept me, is that _too much to ask_?!”

“Here, have some tea,” Trowa suggests, handing the now sobbing woman a cup long-gone cold. She sniffles, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I’m _sorry_ , I can’t help it--”

“I know,” Trowa soothes, patting her shoulder awkwardly. “I thought you were going to stop after Gabriel?”

“So did I!” she wails. Despite how often Wufei says I’m ignorant about life in general, and that I always miss the obvious, I’m following along well enough to realize what the hell Trowa’s talking about.

“You’re _pregnant_ again?!”

“Why does everyone _hate_ me?”

Oh great, at least Wufei’s right about my complete lack of tact.

“Oh god,” I mutter, scooting over to hug the distraught woman. “No one hates you, I’m just being a man.”

“I hate _you_ ,” she sobs against my shoulder. I pat her back, nodding along with her.

“A lot of people do, don’t feel bad about it,” I console her. She snorts, shoving at me.

“Flirt,” she accuses. I grin unrepentantly.

* * *

 

After Cathy calms down, finishes her tea, and goes to take a post-hysteria nap, I finally feel safe enough to deck Trowa across the face.

“That’s for dragging me here against my will.”

I punch him again, while he’s still recovering from my first throw.

“That’s for not warning me about the Harpy being here!”

I throw my fist again, but he catches it in his hand.

“That... was supposed to be for being an asshole,” I finish lamely, staring at the hand that was supposed to be implanting itself into that way-too-fucking-smug face.

“Would you have come with me if I’d warned you beforehand?” I don’t open my mouth, the question really unnecessary since we both know the answer.

“So when were you going to tell me that we’re related?” I ask amiably. His eye twitches slightly, before he’s shoving me away.

“I didn’t know you were her brother-in-law,” Trowa admits. “I figured you were a friend of hers, or worked with her before when I learned you were skilled in Necrology.”

“Then how did you know about my brother?” I ask, and Trowa’s gaze darts away, his hand brushing against my skin.

“I drew it from your thoughts.”

“...Fucking hell.” I yank my arm away from him, and I catch the brief flash of pain in his eyes before he covers it up.

“I can’t dig too deeply by just touch... but it was enough to realize what you were focused on in that moment.”

“That-- I-- You--” I’m so pissed, I can’t even speak, and that’s something not even alcohol can take from me!

Trowa growls, before yanking me towards him and covering my lips with his own. My words vanish again, both verbally and mentally, and for very different reasons.

“Just shut up,” he murmurs against my mouth, and I pull him back to me, initiating the kiss this time. My hands bury themselves in his hair, and I’m pressing him back against the wall. The hallway was small enough to begin with, but it’s feeling even smaller the more contact his skin makes with mine. A whine escapes his mouth as I bite down lightly on his jugular, and I almost feel something like warmth spread through my limbs.

It’s quick to vanish as a very obvious cough sounds behind us. I spin around, a trail of saliva sticking to my cheek from where I’d been leaving the makings of an impressive hickey on my sister’s brother.

Oh hell.

“H-hi,” I squeak, my voice cracking in my embarrassment. All Cathy does is raise an eyebrow at us, and the relation between her and Trowa is clear in that gesture. So that’s what Trowa would look like if he were a chick, my mind helpfully tells me, and I resist the urge to bang my head against the wall.

“We’re only technically related,” Trowa blandly offers. Giving up the losing battle, I let my head smack the painted plaster beside me.

* * *

 

“Well, that’s all I can do for you right now,” Cathy says, patting my shoulder. I finger the metal chain around my neck, the weight of the Catholic-style cross unfamiliar. It’ll take some getting used to before I can ignore it.

“So this’ll stop the fracturing, or whatever the hell I’m doing?”

“It will stop the _current_ fracturing,” she corrects me. “However, if you go fuck around with more necromancy, you’ll have to face the consequences.”

“I haven’t done any necromancy since Solo’s mistake.” Nothing that can break more of myself apart on that level, at least. I don’t know if breaking necromancy apart counts as actually doing necromancy... but I don’t think right now’s the best time to ask.

“This should also help give you a head start into the problem of your chronic possessions,” she continues. “You’ll have to actually learn how to keep them out yourself, but this will stop the flashing neon signs telling every paranormal creature you’re available for the taking.”

“Got it,” I mutter. My curiosity takes over my mouth again before I can help it. “Why a cross?”

“Because I can,” she snaps. I close my mouth, not willing to set off her pregnancy-induced temper again.

“Now that we have this settled, we’re going shopping. There’s no edible food in this house, Duo has no clothes worth the fabric they’re made out of, Trowa has no taste for entertainment whatsoever, and I want to spoil my little brothers!”

I glance over at Trowa, and for the first time I don’t feel like holding his poorly disguised terror over his head. Because I know he can see mine too.

* * *

 

Shopping with Cathy is the worst thing I’ve ever lived through.

She hasn’t changed from the last time I went with her almost six years ago. That was when she’d decided that I must be colourblind, and replaced everything I owned with what she felt was a much more acceptable item. The only perk is that she always ends up paying, as she’s well aware of my lack of income (most of the time).

After several embarrassing moments involving the dressing room, the poor flustered attendant, and the combination of Cathy and my own limited patience, Trowa finally convinces his sister to take pity on my poor soul and end this horrific experience. Actually, he reminds her that there’s always tomorrow, which has me wondering how long she’s planning on stalking me down here. When I actually ask her this, the look she gives me shows I fail at making it sound casual.

“I’m staying as long as I need to. I have to make sure my charm’s working, so it’s easier to just stay down here than to have Trowa beg me to come back.”

I raise an eyebrow at Trowa, who ignores me. He doesn’t seem like the begging type, the mental picture of Trowa pleading over the phone impossible to imagine.

“Err, okay,” I mumble, fiddling with the chain around my neck. I’m not used to having weight there, and it keeps rubbing my skin.

“I still think we should have gotten you the haircut,” Cathy says with a frown, and I give her a dark look at even mentioning it again. That had been where I finally put my foot down; no one, and I mean no one, messes with my hair.

“Leave the hair alone,” Trowa says, his voice as bland as his expression. Cathy looks over at him, her eyebrows lifting a little. Trowa gives a little smirk, looking at me in the mirror.

“He has clothes now that make him look like a man, so the hair doesn’t matter anymore.”

I’m just about ready to toss myself out the car, family or not (I thought I wasn’t going to think of that...). Of course, tossing Trowa out would be better, but seeing as he’s driving, that wouldn’t be the smartest move.

I’ll get him back after we park. I pat myself on the back mentally as I decide on this devious plan of action. I’ll admit I’m a fucking genius.

“So Duo, do you want us to drop you off at home, or are you staying for dinner?” Cathy asks as we merge onto the main road, and I hesitate for a moment, before asking my own question in return.

“What’s cooking?”

I ignore the stare Cathy’s giving me, both of us aware I didn’t answer her question. It’ll come back to bite me on the ass later, but for now it’s going to go ignored. I don’t mind, I’m in no hurry to admit I’m currently homeless and bumming off of everyone when I’m not working.

* * *

 

“What. Happened.”

I marvel at the ability women naturally have to turn any question into a dire threat. I avoid her eyes with steady determination, allowing myself to answer the damn question.

“I lost my place, when I was out workin’. The landlady thought I wasn’t comin’ back, so she gave it ‘way.”

“How long ago was this?”

I still can’t meet her eyes. I don’t like looking into Cathy’s face, to be honest, because it reminds me of the days where both of our focus was on Solo. When... that part of my life ended, so did my contact with Cathy. It’s hard to look at her without thinking of Solo too. And I hate thinking of him.

“Duo, how long ago?”

“Only a little bit,” I answer, very vaguely. She’s not satisfied with my response.

“How long is ‘a little bit?’”

“A month or two?” I hedge, dipping a toe into the unknown waters of her patience.

“Duo Maxwell, you bloody moron,” she sighs, moving to wrap me in a hug again. I stiffen, but she doesn’t take the hint and let me go. Instead, she holds onto me tighter.

“Why didn’t you call me? I’d have helped you, you know that. We’re family.”

“We aren’t family,” I snap, frustrated. “I have no one. You married my brother, fine, I’ll admit to that. But that doesn’t matter anymore!”

“You need to stop being so angry, it’s not good for your soul.” To Cathy’s credit, she ignores my deliberate cruelty.

“I’m going to call Howie, see if he’s willing to put you up for a couple months. I’m going to find you another place, one where the landlord isn’t such a bitch.”

“I’m fine, Cathy,” I huff, squirming. She’s yet to let go of me.

“No, you aren’t. I can’t do much about your lack of identity, but I’ve played the same circles Solo did, years ago. I can call in favours. You could call in favours too, if you weren’t so damn stubborn!”

“I was made that way,” I reply cheekily, and she slaps the back of my head.

“Now come, you need to sleep. It will be a few days before the charm takes full effect, and I want you to get as much natural sleep as you possibly can.”

I don’t raise any objections, letting Cathy pull me down the hall and into the room where I’d woken up the first night I’d ever slept here. There are less boxes now, or so it seems; my memories of that morning are rather hazy.

There’s a bed set up in here now, a bag and several pieces of clothing tossed on the covers. I’m pretty sure the clothes belong to Cathy, my assumption made a fact as she shoves them off the side of the bed and pushes me down onto it. I give her a slightly nervous grin as she does this.

“We’re related, remember?” I tease, and she lifts an eyebrow, crawling in next to me.

“That didn’t stop you from kissing my little brother,” she shoots back at me, and I cringe.

“You... er... you weren’t ‘posed t’see that?”

“Besides,” she continues, ignoring me, “I’ve slept with your brother loads of times, you can’t be any worse.”

“Wow, way to boost my ego,” I mumble, turning on my side away from her.

“Oh hush, and get to sleep. I promise I won’t force any naughty touches on you.”

It takes me a long time to get to sleep, the distant memories of sharing a bed with Cathy mixing with the present. The only thing missing is Solo lying between us. But honestly, he’s always between us somehow, even now.

* * *

 

I thought going to work would let me get a break from Cathy. But Trowa showed up at the office today, our common relative in tow. I studiously pretend I don’t see them, instead focusing harder on the origami crane I’m trying to make. Keyword: trying.

“You’re folding the wrong side,” Wufei instructs, pointing at the other side of my wadded paper. “This corner goes in first.”

“Why am I doing this again?” My question comes out whiny, but I don’t care. This is what Heero says my job is for today, which makes me wonder if he’s been smoking something back in his office.

“Because your attention span doesn’t exist. The objective of this exercise is to concentrate your mind on completing a task, without your attention wavering or disrupting your progress.”

“That’s great and all,” I say, my voice heavily laced with contempt, “but couldn’t you two have picked something I actually know how to do?”

“But what’s the fun in that?” Wufei asks, and if I didn’t know better I would think he’s being serious. But the gleam in his eyes gives him away, and I crumple up the remaining shreds of my paper and flick it against his forehead.

“Then I’m done. I failed, go find me something else to do, or whatever. Or better yet,” I mock, clapping my hands with false cheer, “let me do some actual work!”

“I doubt there’s anything left for you to do,” Trowa notes, sitting down on one of the sofas near my desk. Cathy sits next to him, still looking around the room in awe.

There’s a lot to be in awe about, I muse, looking around as well. When I first came to work here, the walls were bare, stacks of paper and books lining the surfaces of the desk and table, and the chaos best left forgotten. It took forever to clean that mess up, which I then immediately set to work on making this place look decent. A few good words in the right ears brought some unique pieces of art to hang up. Howie connected me to the glass cabinet our certificates are housed in (along with some photos I took during a couple of local cases), and this German chick I’d worked with for a while helped me find some more decent (and tasteful) furniture.

And no one could ever ignore Betty, who’s now taking up over a quarter of the room.

This office is like a second home to me (well, my only home since I’m now lacking the first one), my fingerprints and personality clearly seen all over. The shining moment in my memory is when I managed to find a painting that’s just like the one from Relena’s home, back when they were all being mutated. Wufei just about died when Howie’s buddy dropped that off for me. It took a good long argument, and a final comment from Heero, to allow it to be hung above my desk. I still remember Heero’s words that won me my argument.

“Let him have it. Think of what he’ll find if you don’t; do you _want_ to see if he can do worse?”

I watch Cathy for a couple more moments before turning away from her. I honestly don’t know how I feel about her; she married my brother, and reminds me of that loss each time I see her. It’s not that I hate her, I hate how she makes me feel.

Maybe I resent her? I don’t know, but I’d rather she just leave already and let me be.

She seems to understand my inner turmoil, as she doesn’t draw attention to herself. Instead, she’s talking to Trowa and Wufei (who went over there after I started ignoring him), while I’m pretending to be busy sorting files again. I’ve reorganized them several times now, but I just want to look busy, so I keep doing it.

My lovely little bubble of isolation is broken when Quatre Winner comes into the office.

Cathy jumps up to give the blond man a hug, while Trowa gives only a nod as a greeting. Wufei greets him politely, and I just settle with completely ignoring his existence. He’s the one who draws attention towards me again, however, by coming over and asking how I’m feeling right now.

“You gave us quite a scare,” he exclaims, clasping a hand over his chest. I don’t look at him, too busy trying to find a word that rhymes with orange.

“I know you can hear me,” he snaps, finally losing his temper. I cheer inwardly at the victory before finally giving him my attention.

“I’m working.”

“You’re pretending to work, actually,” he points out, and I shrug.

“It’s close enough.”

“Did I do something to anger you?” he asks me, and I shrug again, giving him the only non-answer he’s getting from me.

“He’s just being pissy, don’t worry,” Cathy answers for me, and I allow her excuse to fly. If it keeps them off my back, I’ll take whatever they feel like making up.

“Did something happen?” Oh great, the ever-concerned ex-billionaire is digging deeper.

“Oh, he’s just mad because I came to see him. He doesn’t particularly like me that much, which I don’t blame him for. I don’t bring back good memories, do I, little brother?”

“Cathy, please shut up,” I growl, stabbing my finger against the backspace key. I don’t know how long Heero’s tolerance of the filing system I designed will last, if I start naming the files after my favourite causes of death. He’s still trying to decipher the foods I associated with each case, when I got bored last time and redid the filing system for the twelfth time.

“See? It’s not you. Or not just you, if you did anything to piss him off recently.”

“I didn’t know you two are related!” Quatre is rather reactive tonight, I idly note as I open a game of solitaire on the computer. I can’t help but toss in my own two cents.

“We aren’t.”

“Yes, we _are_ ,” she argues, giving me a pointed stare.

“No, we are _not_.”

“Drop it you two,” Trowa sighs, clearly annoyed. I raise an eyebrow, as he doesn’t often show this (or at least, that I’ve seen). Maybe having Cathy around wouldn’t be too bad, if I didn’t get the urge to shove her out a window every ten minutes. I like watching Trowa lose his temper.

Makes me wonder just how far I would need to push him to see where the end of his tolerance lies.

“They’ve been arguing since she got into town,” he mutters, glancing at Wufei. I guess I wasn’t the only one giving him a look, though I would have to break some teeth if it was the same look I was giving.

I’m not jealous, just possessive.

When the door to Heero’s office door finally opens, I jump on the distraction.

“Got anything that needs done, Boss-man?” I ask, pushing away from my desk. He blinks, caught off guard by my enthusiasm. After glancing at the assembled group next to my desk, he raises an eyebrow slightly before focusing on me again.

“I have the pictures from the ritual at the beach resort. I need you to identify and label the markings so that they are understandable to someone else besides you.”

I let the grin slide off my face, taking the stack of photos from Heero. They’re enlarged, allowing me to see the images better. “When did you take these?” I ask curiously.

“While you were unconscious,” he replies, and I nod. Makes sense, he’s not the kind of guy to wait around when there’s still shit to do.

“I need Post-it’s,” I mutter, opening the drawer under my desk and digging for the large package I bought a few months ago. I hear Wufei mutter something - probably an insult - as I find the colorful stack of sticky paper. I start laying them down on the floor, in the order that they would be read if on the wall. Heero had them in the wrong sequence, but then again, he didn’t know that.

“Who and who,” I mutter, sticking two notes above the first image, one on each side of the page. “What, where,” I label the other images, leaving a blank mess of symbols unmarked. I hesitate for a moment, before scribbling _WHEN_ on a piece of paper and sticking it above.

“I thought you said the ‘when’ was missing,” Heero reminds me, having been watching me work. I look up, and realize he’s not the only one. The room’s watching me, and I grin nervously.

“The key mark is missing, that’s why he had to go grab the kid that led to his demise,” I point out, brushing an empty space in the middle of the mess. “However, if he’d grabbed the brat, there’d have been a much bigger problem on our hands, one way or another.”

“This...” Cathy whispers, her eyes widening as she kneels next to me. Her fingers graze over the second set of _WHO_ marks, and I flinch. She withdraws her hand, setting it on her lap.

“Duo, you crazy bastard,” she whispers. “You need to stop getting involved in this shit.”

“Can’t help it, it’s my curse,” I grumble.

“You mentioned he was trying to summon a god,” Heero says. “Do you know which god he was trying to summon?”

“That’s the problem.” At the blank faces staring back at me, I reluctantly give more details. “Most necromancers don’t learn about this, but you can’t just summon a specific god with only using the markings and symbols. That’s where the sacrificial parts come in.”

I trace my finger over the same mark Cathy had touched, tapping my finger against it. “This is the mark to draw forth the deepest Tier, where the most powerful deities rest. There are different gods who rest in that space though, so the blood or offering is the key into tempting the one you want specifically to come.”

“That’s why you said it wouldn’t work,” Wufei interrupts. “There are no gods that accept children, are there?”

“Nope,” I confirm. “I’m thinking, however, that he was aiming for a god of war, death, or destruction.”

“Is that because it’s Hell?” Trowa asks, and I glance up. He shrugs at my inquiring look. “I know the marks, but I don’t understand most of them.”

“Well, there are seven Tiers, or levels, according to mythology,” I explain, taking a blank piece of paper from the printer. Using my pen, I draw six lines down the paper while writing the numbers 1-7 in each space. “Religious psychobabble labeled them as the seven levels of Hell.”

“The Tiers are levels of power, not depth,” Cathy takes over for me, letting me scribble on the paper. I have a feeling Heero’ll want to keep this for reference later, so I better make it understandable. “The lower Tiers contain demons, monsters, souls, and entities. The ‘deeper’ you go, the stronger the being. The three lowest are considered the realms of the gods.”

“Demi and psuedo, low-power, high-power, and deictic gods,” I elaborate, sliding the paper onto the table. “The labels are what human practitioners assigned, but in essence, gods like those of war, destruction, love, death, life, and time reside on the seventh tier. Harvest, animal, season, weather, and those who have many worshipers are below them. Mischief, and gods that fall under the care of the higher levels reside below them, along with those who have some devoted worshipers. Demi and psuedo gods are those with power, but are either not well-known, or they’ve been forgotten.”

“The Tiers are flexible and interchangeable,” Cathy cuts in, seeing their confused looks. “One can move up the ranks, but they can also move down. If the world fell into a state of ultimate pacifism, and war completely faded away, the gods of war would lose their power, falling into a lower tier of existence. And one of the gods of mischief, Loki, actually reigns among the Deictic Tier, due to the mass amount of power he wields.”

“What about purgatory? Is that based on any semblance of this?”

“Oh hell,” I mutter, grabbing another piece of paper and scribbling on that too. Using a black pen, I draw a rather uneven circle. I quickly use a red one to trace another circle around it.

“Purgatory is, technically, the afterlife in general. Some religions label it as a place where the dead await judgment to ascend into heaven or sink into hell.” I tap my pen against the red line. “There’s a bit of truth in that. Souls can be deemed powerful and move into the tiers of power, or the ‘levels’ of hell. But what most religions get wrong is that heaven and hell are separate.”

“Hell describes dark power, heaven describes light power,” Cathy inputs, drawing a line down the middle of the page, separating the seven sections into fourteen.

“Anyway, back to Purgatory...” I tap the black circle. “This black line is the mortal plane. That’s where you, me, and everyone else who’s alive exists. Purgatory is all around us, but unseen. This is where the dead reside. They still live on earth, but a different, er, phase of it?” Shaking my head slightly to chase away my own confusion, I tap the paper again.

“When the phase weakens, or a soul has a strong attachment to life, they fall into the space between life and death.” I run my finger in the small gap between the red and black lines. “The stronger the attachment, the more they come to this side of the line. That’s how ghosts and paranormal events happen. When psychics and mediums hold a séance, or someone summons a soul, they cross into the other phase, allowing the soul to temporarily reside here while the power is maintained.”

“What about the psychics who see ghosts?”

“They can only see ghosts that reside in the gap, or on this side,” I answer. “There are very few living souls who can see the other phase, and most of them go mad. The good thing, however, is that the souls who’re in Purgatory can’t see us either.”

“So the dead can’t see the living, and the living can’t see the dead. The only time the two can converse is in the middle space, or if both are on the same side of the line,” I sum up, leaning back from the papers. “If you think about it, in the exact same space we’re sitting, there are dozens of dead souls living their afterlives.”

“…Creepy,” Trowa mutters, shifting. Cathy laughs, and I chuckle myself at the reaction.

“So back to the mark,” Heero reminds me, and I nod.

“The mark is to draw those from this level to the surface.” I trace my finger on the first piece of paper, touching the mark drawn below the ‘7’. I have the other tiers marked as well with their ‘calling cards,’ so that Heero can stash them, or whatever he plans to do with this after. If it were me, I’d be burning it; no sense in letting such sensitive material exist. “When drawing the Tier marks, you need to have the stabilizers. I’m saying this right now,” I point out, giving Heero a firm look, “I’m not labeling them or what they do. This is dangerous shit, and I’m not freely handing it out.”

“I don’t even know what most of them do,” Cathy adds, supporting me. “There’s so much that can go wrong, and most necromantic mishaps are caused by trying to copy others.”

“I doubt you’d try to do it, but leaving hard copies of this shit ‘round ain’t the best thing t’do.” Heero nods after a very long moment, and I accept it. Feeling relieved, I continue my lesson. At least I have an interested audience.

“So the more powerful the being you’re callin’, the more effort and detail y’need to go into it. Most necromancers don’t ever dabble into the Tiers, where very few of those who do don’t aim beyond Tier 3.  Those who’re willin’ to play with gods are either ignorant, or willin’ to sacrifice enough for their cause.  An’ believe me, it better be a good cause, or you’re fucked.”

“I’d assume gods wouldn’t like to be called on for frivolous reasons,” Wufei remarks, and I nod.

“Yeah, tends to piss’em off, if a lower Tier could do th’job bein’ asked of ‘em. S’why y’gotta really know what you’re doin’. Bein’ able t’see all th’marks now…” I point to the _WHAT_ markings, which are actually spread onto two different pictures. Like I said, Heero wouldn’t have known they belong together. “Any god he’d call would’ve been pissed. The guy wanted t’kill a specific person. You don’t ask gods to do that.  Any demon worth their Tier could do it for less.”

“So what would you call on a god for?”

“Things you can’t do yourself,” I vaguely answer. “I… I don’t want to answer too specifically.”

“Understandable, that is a very sensitive key detail,” Heero concedes, and I let out a shaky breath.

“I gotta take a break,” I mumble, pushing myself to my feet. No one stops me as I walk out the front door. I don’t really care.

* * *

 

My break drags me away from the office, past the metro area, past my old work (which now houses organic vegetables), and into a part of the city most ignore. The houses are mostly abandoned, having been neglected due to more desirable opportunities further in the city.

Pretty much, I’m in my old stomping grounds.

It doesn’t take long to adjust my stride, showing myself as a passive threat. It helps, other locals not bothering to cross my path, while not picking a fight. Smart move, for them at least. When my feet finally stop dragging me along for the ride, I sit down on the only bench available. It’s a rotted-through piece of crap, yet miraculously holds even my meager weight.

I stare at the remains of a building, the memories, reality, knowledge, and wisdom best left ignored chasing each other around in my skull. The question that keeps popping up among the scramble makes my thoughts race faster, spiraling into an oblivious wave of pain.

Did I say too much?

Necromancy isn’t a light-hearted subject, and very dangerous to practice. Sure, you get the crackheads who summon legions of animated corpses, but anyone with a shred of power can pull that off. It’s the real Necromancy that is irreparable, the kind where you can never turn back.

The kind Cathy avoids. The kind I thrive in.

Another weight settles next to me, the smell of jasmine and honey giving away who dares approach me. Speak of the devil…

“We come full circle,” she starts, breaking the silence I was happily enjoying. I let out a huff of air, stretching my legs.

“Nothing’s changed,” I mumble, blinking slightly to restore my vision. I didn’t notice my eyes went dry, but that happens when you don’t blink for gods-know-how-long.

“You haven’t changed either,” Cathy sighs, brushing her hand against my arm. I stiffen, and she drops it back onto her lap. “That’s the hardest part to watch.”

“Then stop looking,” I point out, and she shakes her head.

“I made a promise, the day I pulled you from the rubble,” she murmurs, “I would never let you suffer this curse alone.”

“There’s not much you can do. The world will keep turning, no matter how hard you or Howie try to stop it.”

“Then let us pretend we’re useful,” Cathy pleads with me. I close my eyes, reluctantly nodding.

“I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through,” she whispers, “but I don’t want you to be alone.”

“You have your family to take care of,” I snap, losing my patience. “You can’t keep trying to save me!”

“Yes I can! I can try as hard as I’m able!” She blinks back tears, her cheeks reddening. “I’m just happy you finally found people who give a shit about you for once! It means I can rest easier.”

“Yeah, an anally retentive co-worker, a boss who stalks me as a hobby, a creepy-ass fucker who turned out to be your kid brother, and I don’t even want to get into the list of things obviously wrong with Blondie.”

“Quatre’s a good kid, stop picking on him,” Cathy chides, “but yes, you have an interesting mix of people. However, did they leave you to yourself when you went into that coma?”

“…No,” I admit. She’s not done though.

“Did they pry too deeply into things you want to ignore?” I shake my head, and she keeps listing off the ‘better’ deeds they’ve done. “Have they taken advantage of you? Have they asked you to demonstrate your abilities? Have they asked you to stop being yourself, however annoying or pissy you are?”

“Okay, they haven’t!” I shout, standing up from the bench and turning around. “But they sure as hell know my uses, and are happy to remind me of my place!”

“Your place is in the world of the living, Duo. They’re trying to help keep you there. Don’t fight their kindness, please?”

I sigh, covering my eyes with my arm. I feel her too-warm body wrap around my own freezing one, gently holding me to her. We don’t speak after that, just stare at the remains of where my life ended. Where Solo left my life. Where Cathy first entered it.

Where everything began.


	7. Case 6 (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Duo agonizes, reunites with his children, agonizes some more, and is pummeled heavily.

“I thought it would’ve been obvious,” I point out, raising an eyebrow. Wufei flushes, hands fisting at his sides.

“Maybe to _you_. We’d just send you walking around until you started bleeding somewhere.” His words are sharp, but they just bounce right off of me. I already know I’m a damn good ghost radar, though I will happily take less bleeding to get the job done. Though, since Cathy gave me my cross I don’t tear at my skin as much; a nice side-effect.

“But it’s a _doll_ , Wu,” I press. “It’s a vessel _begging_ to be filled.”

“It’s a _doll_ ,” Wufei mocks, “which makes me think of the fact that it’s a child’s _play toy_ , not a motel!” I have to give myself credit, because a year ago I doubt he would have responded like that. Of course, a year ago one of the stacks of paper would have probably fallen and squished him, or he would have burned himself to death playing with his lighter. The guy’s a fucking pyro, and that’s putting it lightly.

“Don’t you ever read those books that’re taking over your office?” I ask, and he scowls.

“I can’t remember _everything_ I read, unlike some people.” Yeah, I admit Heero’s a bit weird in that department, though I’m no slacker. I just use my awesome knowledge to piss people off more than help them, where Heero… well, it’d take pliers to pry anything out of him.

“Basic haunting and poltergeist 101: hollow things make great homes for dead people,” I recite from memory, heavily paraphrasing the lengthy book. “I mean, can you feel them at _all_?”

“I don’t need to feel them, that’s what _you’re_ for.”

Ouch.

“What did you do before I came around? Wave a stick of incense and hope they took a sniff?”

I quickly duck as Wufei’s incense holder goes flying above my head.

“I’m serious! How the hell did you and Hee-chan—”

“ _Who?_ ”

“The man we happen to work for?”

“What did you call him?!” Wow, I’ve never seen someone look so fascinatingly horrified as Wufei does right now. I let the grin spread across my lips, knowing the evil glee’s reflecting in my eyes.

“ _Hee-chan_. Hee. Chan. H, e, e, c—”

“Stop!” he hisses, throwing out a hand as if to physically halt my lips. I hover over the next letter, the ‘h’ teetering and ready to fall into verbal existence. Wufei looks rather ill, and I tilt my head curiously.

“You do realize that the ‘chan’ is usually added to show a close friendship with a _woman_?”

“Uh, yeah.” That’s half the fun of it.

The other half is watching how _blank_ Heero’s face goes when I actually use it.

“You— _You_ — Oh _gods._ ” I sit back down in my office chair, watching my coworker’s face change colours. I have to wonder if it’s healthy, but I don’t have to worry as the laughter starts sounding behind the hands pressed against his mouth. “Please tell me you didn’t call him that to his face.”

I raise an eyebrow, and he moves his hands to cover his entire face, the laughter growing louder.

“If you two are done,” the frigid tones behind me letting me know that the boss-man finished typing up his case notes. I spin my chair to face him, giving him my most innocent smile.

He doesn’t even _twitch_. Man, the guy’s solid.

“Aww, c’mon Hee-chan—” I’m not sure what’s happening behind me, but from the sounds of it Wufei swallowed his tongue. “—don’t be such a wet blanket!”

I think I’m getting frostbite from the intensity of the glare fixed steadily upon me. I give a wide grin, hoping I don’t look smug.

I suck at that, and I can feel the temperature dropping steadily.

“To answer your question, when you are not present there is technology designed specifically for tracking and recording paranormal events. As you work better than any of them, there is no use for bringing them along on cases you work with us.”

“Ah, gotcha. Those camera things you had back at Spineless’ joint.”

“Exactly. However, the presence of paranormal beings can cause an electro-magnetic field, which leads to some equipment failure or misreading. It is a very delicate process. Another reason why it is safer to leave them here while you are present.”

“Thanks.” Wow, what a way to ruin a guy’s mood.

“Now if you two are done… bonding, there is work to be done.”

“Gotcha,” I salute, spinning to face my monitor once more. I can hear Wufei picking up papers behind me, the crinkling of the thin sheets giving me goosebumps.

When Heero’s back hiding away in his office, I look at Wufei in the reflection of my black screen. “So neither of you can feel spirits?”

“That is correct. We rely heavily on technology or those who are capable of doing so.”

“Dumb it down,” I snap, irritated. He shrugs, and I sigh dramatically.

“Oh Betty, I’m surrounded by fools,” I moan to the branch beside my head, stroking a finger down one of the vibrant green leaves. Wufei scoffs behind me.

“Says the man who is having an affair with office foliage.”

“But she’s not any ol’ plant, she’s _special_ ,” I whisper, wagging my eyebrows suggestively.

“Yes, she’s abnormally large,” he deadpans, and I place a hand over my chest, leaning back.

“Are you calling her fat?”

“Considering ‘she’ is a plant, I don’t think it _matters_.”

I stare at him blankly. He stares back. I make sure that all the disbelief in my mind is clearly heard in my voice when I ask him the only question on my mind.

“You really don’t know?”

I can see his wariness; I’m not often very serious, and it tends to catch him off guard when I act my age.

“Know what?” he asks hesitantly. I shake my head.

“Betty’s the ghost _haunting_ the plant.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, trying to recover from the mine that just exploded in his brain. When he _does_ though, it’s obvious his brain’s fried.

“W-what?”

I shake my head mockingly.

“Like I said, hollow things make _great_ homes.”

* * *

 

I figured I would regret giving Heero his new nickname. Sure, it _seemed_ like a great idea at the time, but most of my ‘great ideas’ go sour after a bit; or come back to haunt me.

So it makes sense that he gives me the most dull, mundane, and absolutely _boring_ task he can find. And, to make it even worse, it’s _work_ related.

I’m cleaning.

And not the ‘fun’ cleaning either; I don’t get to fuck around with the laptops, or even go over old case files (like I did when I first started working here). No, I’m literally stuck _cleaning_.

By God, I doubt they’ve done it since moving in here.

I have a rag tied around my face, pure bandit style, and wield another one in my left hand. In my right, I’m holding a spray bottle; I have no clue what the hell’s in it, but I’m pretty damn sure I don’t want it to touch my skin.

“Having fun?” Wufei asks, sitting on one of the sofas and reading a book. I can’t read the title, but I’m sure I’ve seen it in his office before.

I don’t answer him, stubbornly attacking my current enemy. Loudly, I might add, to try and piss off Heero in the other room.

“Take… _that_!” I holler, smacking the rag in my hand on top of the bookshelf in front of me. I imagine the colony of dust bunnies screaming in agony as I squish their puny little bodies, then douse them in toxins. I cackle aloud, scrubbing the wooden surface quickly to remove the evidence of my horrendous deeds.

“Can you do _anything_ quietly?” Wufei snaps, slamming his book closed. I ignore him in favour of smacking the wood again, making sure I leave no one alive (they breed like rabbits, I swear! They must be cousins). When a hand brushes along my shoulder, leaving a tingling, burning, _itching_ trail in its wake, I don’t have to turn around to know who’s there. It helps when he answers for me.

“I doubt Duo’s capable of silence,” Trowa muses, though it’s hard to tell with how damn _bland_ he is. I don’t hear the tell-tale chuckle of Quatre, so I’m guessing he came alone.

“Is it physically possible?”

Oh, so he didn’t come alone. Just not with Quatre.

“Relena!” I spin around, knocking several items off of the bookshelf in my haste to grab her into a tight hug. She squeaks loudly, laughter ringing between the gasps for breath.

“Okay! Let go!” she squeals, pushing against my shoulders. I reluctantly set her down, letting her catch her breath, before leading her over to the sofa and pushing her onto the seat. She’s letting me do this, I know by the way she just smiles at me, but I still go and grab her a cup of coffee regardless. Serena’s memories - still knockin’ around in my head - help me make it the way Relena likes it, and I take it back out for her.

“Nothing for me?” Trowa mocks, and I give him a flat look.

“You know where it is. Go get some yourself.”

“Oh you two, stop it,” Relena cuts into our argument, and I close my mouth obediently. “Now, as much as I wish this was a social call, I need help.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, sitting next to her. She looks down into her mug, frowning.

“I think I’m possessed again. But not like— not like when Mother was here.”

“Can you explain in more detail, Ms. Peacecraft?”

It’s a testament to how immune I am to Heero randomly popping into existence when I don’t flinch at his voice. Hell, my heart doesn’t even beat faster, or my pulse jump. I’m so used to it, I think I’d be more startled if he _didn’t_ show up.

“W-well, it started a few months ago. I didn’t notice then, as it was only the paper-boy, a younger kid named James, who was acting oddly. At first, I thought _he_ was possessed!” She laughs, but it isn’t in amusement. I let my hand rest on her shoulder, and she leans against me. Taking a sip of her drink, she picks up from where she left off.

“It was cute, at first, the little notes he would leave with my paper. A schoolboy crush, I assumed, and ignored them. But… they got more detailed, _worse_ , and then I noticed the memory gap.”

“What brought that to your attention?” Heero asks, his notebook open and pen scratching across the pages.

“The fact that I woke up next to him naked?!” Relena hisses, her face red and eyes shut tightly. There’s nothing said after that - there’s nothing _to_ say after that - and I wrap my arm around her, pulling her into a hug. Her body’s trembling in my hold, and I urge her to keep speaking.

“I- I apologized to the boy, but he didn’t seem to care that I probably rap—”

“Relena, calm down,” I whisper, smoothing my hand over her hair. It’s a gesture not a part of me, only left with me, but it does the trick. She takes a couple breaths, before speaking again.

“—and tried to avoid him as much as I could. It happened two more times, and then someone else started doing the same thing.”

“What was the second man like?”

Relena flushes darker, and her hands tighten around her mug enough to turn her knuckles white.

“She’s one of my maids. She was— was— so out of control! The notes she would leave for me were far worse than James’, and she would try to join me in my baths, or be lying in my bed at night, waiting for me!” No one says anything, so she keeps going. “I’ve woken up next to her, several other maids, and other men I’ve never even met before. They all claim to be in love with me, and I don’t know what to do! I thought it was them, but… what if _I’m_ the one who’s causing it all?”

“There is something definitely unusual about this. Would you like to remain in the area while we prepare, or do you need to return home?” Relena relaxes at Heero’s question.

“I… I don’t want to go back yet.”

“It will take us a couple days to prepare—”

“You may stay at my place,” Trowa volunteers, and I shrug. Since I’m staying there too, I can keep an eye on her. Cathy’ll be there too, so three psychics should be able to figure out what’s going on. Or at least, we shouldn’t fall victim to it. Hopefully.

It’d be strange to fall in love with my _daughter_.

* * *

 

“So you’ll be staying in here,” Cathy tells Relena, pushing open the door to the room I never use here. Cathy drags me to her room each night anyway, so it’s not like I actually _need_ a bed. I’m carrying the suitcase Relena brought with her, while Trowa’s… doing something… somewhere. Honestly, the fucker’s just skipping out on doing anything useful.

“Are you sure I’m not intruding?”

“Of course not!” Cathy quickly assures, and I give her a thumbs up. She still seems unsure, but doesn’t question again. Smart girl, we raised her well.

“I… I just need a few minutes. I’ll be out in a moment.”

“Take your time. There’s no rush, I’m still making lunch!”

I close the door after Cathy steps out, and follow my sister-in-law down the hallway and back to the kitchen. Like she told Relena, lunch was ‘cooking’ on the stove; if lunch is supposed to be a black blob inside a pot.

“So, what’s on the menu?” I question, poking the charred remains with a fork. She smacks me across the back of my head, snatching the fork from my hand.

“If you don’t stop being a dick, nothing for you.”

“Aww, c’mon, I’m _trying_ to be good,” I whine, rubbing where she hit me.

“Try harder then,” Cathy scolds, and anything else left to say is lost at the entrance of her little brother. A wonderful, amazing, godlike brother holding take-out in his hand.

“I love you,” I breathe, swooning dramatically. He snorts softly, setting the bags down on the dining table. A couple bottles of soda are set beside them, and I start poking through the bags to look at the goods.

“This one’s yours,” he says, sliding one of the bags over. I grin, spotting all my favourites: burritos, nachos, tater tots, chicken nuggets, and Taiwanese rice noodles. What he sets down next on the table becomes the center of my world.

“Is that…”

“Yours. The others are for us, but this one’s just yours.”

“Ah…” I mumble, speechless. Cradling the still-cool bottle in my hand, I look over the liquor inside. Clear as water, and _all mine_.

“I figured vodka was a safe choice,” Trowa tells me. “I don’t buy alcohol.”

“It’s good,” I assure him, grabbing my goods and heading for the living room. Food first, drink after. Makes the night last longer.

“Oh!” I turn to say a quick hello to Relena as she enters the room, but am too busy unwrapping a burrito to do anything more. The temptation of good vodka is getting hard to resist.

“Here, Trowa brought some food. This one’s yours!” Cathy says, handing Relena a bag of food and a bottle of soda. Relena takes a seat next to me, and I scoot over a little to give her some room. I’m quickly eating my last burrito, and I’m trying to figure out if I want to eat the nuggets or the nachos next; the noodles are best enjoyed last.

“How did he pick all of my favourites?” Relena wonders, and I snort.

“He’s a creeper. You’ll get used to it.”

I laugh at the look that crosses her face at my answer, popping a chicken nugget into my mouth. She picks up one of her hamburgers, unwrapping it much slower than I did.

“I prefer the term ‘observant’ myself, but creeper seems to stick better,” Trowa muses, sitting across from us. Cathy’s probably eating in the kitchen, having no fondness for eating on the carpet, and I set my empty box of nuggets down, picking up my noodles.

“Did you even _taste_ any of that?!” Relena asks, disgusted. I shake my head.

“Can’t really taste things, so it doesn’t matter. As long as I don’t keel over from starvation, it works.”

“Then why do you like those ones so much?”

“They smell good.”

“…Has that always been a problem?” Relena asks, more gently than she asked her last question. I have to pause and think on that one, before shaking my head.

“Nah. I’m pretty sure I could taste things when I was a brat. It gets worse with age.” I give her a bright smile, in defiance of her pity.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m good. See?” And I take a loaded bite of the noodles, watching with satisfaction as the sadness turns to pure disgust.

It degrades from there, and quite quickly once I break the seal of my treasured drink. Taunts, teasing, some spit exchanging at one point, and a bit of stripping lead up to a great night where reality is forgotten for a few hours. As I climb into bed next to Cathy, I almost feel whole.

Morning comes too soon with my cell phone ringing. I can hear it, but I’m not sure where I left it last night. A bit of digging around in the nightstand puts the annoying device in my hand, and I flip it open, my temper showing.

“What th’fuck, man?”

“We’re leaving for the Peacecraft estate this afternoon,” Wufei tells me, and I almost drop the phone in surprise.

“….You are not Yuy,” I state slowly, clearly, and with much disbelief. A snort from Wufei comes through the line, before his voice follows it.

“Obviously.”

“Duo? Where are my pants?” Cathy asks, having gotten up to look around the room.

“I think they’re in the kitchen,” I answer, not sure myself.

“No, those were Trowa’s.”

“…I don’t want to know. Just be here on time.” I chuckle as the choked words come over the line.

“Got it, Wu-wu.”

I snap the phone shut before he can protest, and toss it on the covers. Sighing, I flop back down, burying my face into the pillow. It was too early for this shit already.

“I can’t find my bra, damn it!”

“It’s in the freezer, Relena!” I shout after lifting my head. After hearing her triumphant cry, I let it sink back down.

Maybe I’ll suffocate here before this afternoon. My head’s _killing_ me.

* * *

 

“Milliardo’s coming home this week,” Relena tells us, throwing open the door to her car and stepping out. I take pride in not showing my absolute horror at the thought, instead not doing anything at all. She still frowns at me, but doesn’t point out my (lack of) enthusiasm.

“He wants to make sure everything’s okay, and… well… he’s not comfortable with me being in a house full of young, single men.”

“Even if one of them is your mother?” Wufei teases, and Relena flushes, meeting my gaze.

“I don’t think that’s very kind to say… but yes, even then.”

I let the jab roll off my back, helping Heero carry in some of the computer equipment. After my earlier argument with Wufei on ‘how things are done,’ Heero’s hell-bent on teaching me the ‘proper’ way to do things. I didn’t think Heero’d take it so personally, but I guess he did.

Maybe it’s a lesson for me to keep my mouth shut for once. But, like Wufei always tells me, I’m a _horrible_ student.

“So what’s the point of all the cameras? I didn’t think you were into that kind of shit.”

Heero’s been ignoring me for the last twenty minutes, setting up the monitors and equipment with a single-minded focus.

“Why haven’t we used these on other cases?” To my surprise, it’s Wufei who answers this for me.

“There was never really time. Normally, it can take days before any activity starts to show, and that allows plenty of time for us to prepare. But the last several cases you came with us on, the action started immediately. There wasn’t enough time for any set up, we had to jump right in and wing it.”

“Gotcha,” I nod, turning back to watch Heero connect some more wires. Yeah, I remember him bringing his laptop, but nothing this complex. Hell, even when he came to Spineless’ joint, he bummed our systems.

“So what’s this do?” I ask, drawing my finger lightly over one of the cords.

Heero and Wufei spend the next hour teaching me what everything does. If I didn’t have such an awesome memory, I doubt I would be able to remember any of it later. As it is, I _do_ have an awesome memory, so by the time the base is fully assembled, and all that’s left is to go find good spots for cameras, I’m well enough caught up to where I can help in the base too.

“As much as I _love_ going and starting shit, I’d rather do something useful,” I had mocked when Wufei asked why I wanted to know. I also want to keep an eye on Relena, to protect her privacy. It’s the mother in me; I _really_ don’t want my boss and coworker peepin’ in on her twenty-four-seven.

‘Being useful’ turns out to also mean placing the cameras. I forgot how fuckin’ _huge_ this place is, and I’m not sure we’ll have enough cameras. Though with Mr. Boy-Scout-dropout Yuy as my boss, I’m sure we’ll end up having too many cameras. _Way_ too many cameras.

 _“Three inches to the left,”_ he says over the COM-link, and I move it as instructed.

_“Up one inch.”_

That’s pretty much how the rest of the first day goes. Relena’s not acting funny or anything, and she’s spending most of her time in her room. I’m not sure what she’s doing in there, but I’ll be finding out soon. I have to put a camera in there eventually.

I’m saving it for last, too.

“So what now, Boss-man?” I chirp after he confirms the camera feed’s running.

_“Come back to base, you’re going to monitor the feeds while I conduct interviews among the staff.”_

“Roger that!” I switch off my headset - a big no-no, but I don’t really care - and start backtracking my way to where we set up the base. This time Heero picked one of the rooms on the second floor, probably to cover more space. I don’t think it would have worked if the cameras were wired, though; the place is too damn big. Heero has some weird blocks plugged in around the mansion to pick up the live-feeds, and I know it’s going to be one hell of a time checking tapes.

Hopefully Wufei’ll be doing that instead of me. He’s more experienced with it, and that’ll give me better things to do.

Things I’m actually good at, like finding the damn problem.

I don’t knock on the door - like I was told to do - but just push into the room. Wufei’s not back yet, still setting up his own cameras. Heero’s at the computer, still directing him. I ignore him for the moment, digging through my bags. I somehow seem to be gathering more things, since it took almost three bags to bring everything I figured I’d need on this case. After the last few fuck-ups, I don’t want to take chances.

I blame Cathy. She’s addicted to shopping.

“So what’s the ETA on gettin’ the fuck outta here?” I ask Heero when the silence gets annoying. He doesn’t seem to understand my sarcasm (or just ignores it, knowing him) and gives me a simple answer.

“A week, depending on how easily the problem is located.”

“Great,” I mumble, pulling a book out of one my bags. It’s actually not my book, but one from Wufei’s office. Since he never reads them, I figure he won’t mind me borrowing them. They’re rather interesting, when you find the right ones.

“I’ve been wondering why Wu’man has a book about documented paranormal sex experiences. ‘S rather suspicious, yanno,” I muse aloud, and I swear to god I just heard Heero choke.

“God _damn_ it, Maxwell, stop raiding my office!” Wufei snaps having just entered the base room. Reaching to grab the book from my hand, he fails miserably as I evade his attempt by pressing the book to my chest and rolling to the side. Not my smoothest escape, but since I didn’t know he was there at first, I’m still giving myself kudos on that move.

“You haven’t answered my question, though!” I tease, and he gives me a dirty look.

“You didn’t _ask_ a question,” he points out, and I shrug.

“Well, why _do_ you have a book on paranormal nookie?”

“For the love of… From a case when I started researching with Yuy! Now give that back!”

“Why? Are you hiding something? Oh, did you use it like a porno and get—”

“Let him keep it for now,” Heero breaks in, cutting off my (rather nasty) retort. Wufei turns his glare to our boss-man, and Heero ignores the heat.

“His ability for perfect recall will be useful. Duo, return the book after you finish.”

“Gotcha. Reading it now,” I salute sloppily, flopping down onto the sofa and opening it to where I left off earlier. Wufei’s cursing out Heero now, which makes for nice background noise.

I can already tell it’s going to be a long day.

* * *

 

I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but it’s pretty obvious that I did. The fact that I’m not in the base - fuck, I’m not even at Relena’s place anymore - is my first clue. The second is all the glowing orbs surrounding me and Serena.

“Silly boy,” she whispers, stroking my hair. I can’t remember sitting next to her, or leaning against her. But here we’re sitting, staring into the darkness together. We might have been talking, I don’t know, but now we aren’t. Well, we _weren’t_ until now. Gah, it’s so confusing.

“I thought y’moved on already,” I muse aloud, and she laughs.

“Oh, I did. But like you’ve noticed, this is just a dream. So I’m here because you wanted me to be.”

“Can y’stop makin’ s’much _sense_?” I grouse. “S’a _dream_. Las’ I knew ‘sense’ wasn’a part’ve ’em.”

“Since when have you ever done what was expected?”

She ( _me?_ ) has a point. But I can’t figure out why my dream - subconscious - would drag her here. I’m not dealing with anything real troubling ( _am I?_ ) and the case hasn’t really started yet. I don’t have anything she could help me with.

“Oh, you do. You just don’t know it yet,” she tells me, letting me know she can hear what I’m thinking in this place, dream, whatever we’re in.

“You need to be careful,” she whispers, leaning to speak in my ear. Who the fuck would overhear us, I have no fuckin’ clue, but it seems to be important to her. Or is it me? Shit, there goes the sense I thought I had. I’m now officially dreaming.

“Their eyes are almost open.”

I bite my lip, staring hard into the glimmering dark.

“There’s not much I c’do ‘bout that,” I finally respond, voicing my resignation. “I’ve been helpin’ the guys with th’cases, only’n idiot could ignore what I’m able t’do.”

“You are _not_ your brother,” Serena snaps, catching onto my thoughts. “You could be… if you _wanted_ to. That’s the difference between you and him. You know what will happen if you do. Not everyone is as fortunate as you are.”

“Y’mean no one else lived t’tell th’tale?” I snark, and she shakes her head.

“No, you are fortunate to know better than to _try_.”

I let that sink in, the surreal pseudo-reality making it hard to really pay attention to her ( _my,_ _whatever_ ) words. When I don’t answer, she gives her final piece of advice.

“You should go to the library. There’s plenty to learn there.” ]

I don’t know how long we sit there after, watching the lights dancing in the distance. They’re not even really lights, but just… less black spots in the overwhelming darkness. Some are almost glittering, but I think if it weren’t so dark, I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.

As I open my eyes, the sun barely starting to lighten the sky outside, I feel calmer than I have in years.

I also know what I’ll have to do. Rolling off of the bed, I quickly make use of the bathroom before wandering down to where the base room is at. As I suspected, Heero’s sitting behind the monitor like the creeper he is. It’s easy to tell he hasn’t been to bed yet, the redness in his eyes and the heavy stench of coffee giving him away.

“Dude, go get some sleep,” I greet, hoping I can get him to jump. But then again, he’s probably watched me walk all the way down here, so I lost my chance to do anything fun. He doesn’t even look at me, the fucker, or bother to listen. He just keeps watching the screen.

I wonder if he’s actually awake.

“Yo, Boss-man. Go get some shuteye,” I move up next to him, stealing the seat beside him. He flinches a little - I _did_ sneak up on him! - and turns to see who the hell’s daring to breach his sacred bubble. I give him a grin, pushing on his shoulder a little.

“Go. Sleep. Now.” Maybe using small words will help him retain it easier.

“Nngh.”

Oh dear Lord, we’re down to grunts now. He’s definitely been awake too long… or talking to Wufei again. Both tend to reduce him to monosyllables and caveman grunts. I nudge him again, more insistently.

“You’re not getting anything done like this. I bet the whole fuckin’ place could’ve been run over with ghosts or whatnot and you’d have just stared at them…”

I ramble on, nudging him every so often to try to get him moving. I figure one or the other will annoy him to the point he’ll leave. But he just won’t get up! Finally, I stop harassing him and just give him a flat look.

“Can you at least sleep here?” I ask, scooting his chair over a little. It has wheels, so it’s not too hard to manage; though with a rug underneath us it’s not as simple as it sounds. I move my own wheelie chair in front of the screen, pushing myself back a little to get some space between me and the laptop screen. I can see all the camera feeds on it, the little boxes showing up on the large monitor behind Heero’s laptop one by one. On _that_ screen I can actually see what’s happening, but I won’t miss anything on the other cameras either. Heero’s head is nodding up and down, the idiot still trying to ignore the obvious.

“C’mon, I’m returning the favour,” I grouse, pushing him sideways on his chair. His body slides off the chair - I didn’t think this through - and his knees hit the carpet. Blinking, he stares up at me confused.

“Grab a fuckin’ chair and come over here,” I snap, clicking open one of the saved camera feeds. I make it pop up on the second monitor - the one not showing me what’s happening right now - and start fast-forwarding through last night. I hear the ‘thump’ of the chair hitting the carpet, and Heero obediently sitting down in it. My second attempt at pushing him down works this time, and his head rests awkwardly on my thigh.

I can tell he’s never napped like this before.

“Okay, slide off of your ass a little, more on your hip. Then your back won’t be crickin’ up later. Now, you can use your arm to pillow yourself, and it’ll let you stretch out s’more. Use the wheelie chair to rest your legs on - yup, like that - and walah, makeshift napping spot. Now get some shut-eye an’ let me take care’ve this.”

I can feel his breaths puffing on my exposed leg as I speed through the night’s feeds. Nothing interesting really happened, though Relena did wander the halls a few times. It was her, though, from what I can tell. The worried look isn’t one I imagine a sexual fiend possessing a young woman would have. It’s not until almost nine o’clock when signs of life start showing up on the live camera. I can see Wufei moving down the hall, entering the same bathroom I did several hours ago. I can’t see him when he’s in there, because I refused to set them up like Heero wanted.

I think it’s the only argument I’ve ever won with the stubborn bastard.

When Wufei retraces my steps into the base room, I look up from the screen.

“Mornin’, sunshine!” I greet, pushing one of the empty coffee mugs towards him. I haven’t been able to get up and get anything for myself, because of the sleeping lug partially on me, so I’m placing all my bets on Wufei right now.

“Hnn,” he snorts, rolling his eyes and stepping further into the room.

“Where’s Yuy?” he asks, and it dawns on me that he can’t see the boss-man from where he’s standing. The table blocks Heero’s body, and I smirk a little.

Oh, this is going to be _fun_!

“He’s asleep,” I answer vaguely, closing out of the feed I’ve been watching, and opening the next one. I’ve gone through almost twenty of them so far, but there are plenty more to go through; I wasn’t sure which ones Heero stopped paying attention to… or _when_ he dozed off. So it’s best to just hit all of them from start to finish.

“When did he do that?” I’m watching the feed, but also watching Wufei make more coffee out of the corner of my eye. Wufei claims to hate the stuff, but he always drinks at least two cups each morning before having his tea.

“About 4 am.”

“I’m amazed he even went,” Wufei mutters, pouring the life-giving liquid into two mugs. “He hates sleeping on the job.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly go to bed,” I admit, my amusement seeping into my voice, “but he’s sure as hell asleep.”

Wufei – who’s walking back to the table – pauses, his eyes narrowing. He’s trying to piece together my logic, and failing horribly. I can see the moment he gives up, and decides to just ask me instead.

“What _are_ you talking about?”

I gesture to my lap, and Wufei’s curiousity compels him to lean over the table and look down.

He drops the mugs.

“Holy _shit_ ,” he breathes, eyes widening.

“Fuck, man, that was perfectly good coffee!” I hiss, my arm slamming down on the table to block the flow of ambrosia from reaching the cords. I can only say I’m glad that all the monitors are on bases to see them easier… or else I have a feeling it would only be me and Heero in the office, with a urn to remember my dearest coworker by. Or maybe Wufei would shack up with Betty in the plant. I know Betty wouldn’t mind.

It takes me a couple moments of looking at Wufei to realize he’s just staring down at Heero. The look on his face is… dare I say, _adorable?_ Like a kicked puppy who can’t understand why he was kicked, his eyes are wide, and mouth open a little, head tilting to the side and what little bit of hair isn’t pulled back into the deathtrap behind his head is trying to remind Wufei about gravity.

“Err… Wu-wu? You alive?” I ask, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. His eyes are narrowing in thought, and it must be rather painful since his nose is scrunching up and his forehead wrinkling. Honestly, it’s starting to remind me of the time I took a chair to his knee.

“Oh fuck, I _broke_ you,” I moan, swiping my arm out a little. There’s going to be _two_ urns in the office now. I feel more of the vile waste seeping into my sleeves, but at least it’s further away from the laptop. I might be able to salvage my own life if I don’t break Heero’s other favourite toy. Wufei blinks rapidly as I splash some of the scalding mess onto him, before he backs up and shakes his head harder.

“I’m going back to bed,” Wufei mumbles, and it’s not hard to tell he’s in denial.

“You’re not asleep. Get your ass back here and help me get this lug somewhere that’s not here!” I hiss, and Wufei pauses, before growling and turning around, stomping back towards me.

“Fine!” he snarls, and despite the horrific mood - him helping me, and I suffering from coffee-drenched clothes - between us, we manage to manhandle our boss into one of the beds in our room.

Fuck, the guy’s _heavy_. I swear he’s a solid mass of those fuckin’ protein bars he adores. But luckily for us, Heero stays asleep through the entire thing, and as we’re closing the door and staring at each other, he finally snaps.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he growls, his hands fisting over the hem of his shirt. I blink, startled at his aggression.

“Okay, I won’t ask for your help again,” I mock, unsure of what’s crawled up his ass and died. I mean, really, I know there’s usually something shoved up there, but not like this. I more often than not deserve whatever he’s dishing out, but I can’t figure out what I could have done this time to get his panties all twisted up.

His eyes narrow, before he turns and strides away from me. I’m left standing alone outside the bedroom door, absolutely sure I missed something.

I shake my head, closing my eyes and then taking a deep breath. When I open them, I let the calm feeling I woke up with reclaim my soul.

I might be missing something, but I have no idea what it could be. So what’s the point of worrying about it?

* * *

 

Heero woke up around noon, and the rest of the day crawled by way too slowly. It’s close to ten o’clock now, and I’m sitting with Relena up in her mother’s secret room. Most of the mess is cleaned up now, and a lot of the papers are gone, but the furniture remains and we make great use of it. Relena’s in one of the overstuffed chairs, and I’m taking up as much room on the sofa as I can.

I’ve been avoiding Heero and Wufei for most of the day. I don’t know what the fuck I did to piss them off, but they are _not_ happy with me right now. I mean, they tend to get annoyed with me on a daily basis, but this is just ridiculous. When Zechs gets here - whenever _that_ is - it’s going to be a great party.

I’ll probably hang myself and get it over with.

“You’re pouting again,” Relena warns, and I make myself focus again on the world outside my head. I turn a little, letting my face press into the cushion below me.

“When’s your brother gettin’ here?” I mumble, and she shrugs.

“Whenever he does,” she replies. “You know, you really don’t need to sound so excited.” The sarcasm drapes over me like a moldy blanket, and I shrug it off just as quickly.

“Oh, ’m totally thrilled… ‘ways wanted t’die young.”

Relena snorts, turning her face away from me dramatically. Her hair spins out, the blonde strands hiding her face for a few moments before dropping back to rest around her shoulders. In a haughty voice, she snidely informs me, “Oh, you’re such a drama queen.”

“I geddit fr’m y’r mum,” I accuse, and she stamps one of her feet on the ground. I’m amazed she managed that, since she’s sitting in a chair. It’s not the easiest feat to pull off. Her voice is sharp when she shouts at me.

“Don’t drag my mother into this!”

“ _She_ dragged _me_ int’this... Wha’ever ‘this’ is. Whadd’re we talkin’ ‘bout ‘gain?” I slur, tilting my head to the side and letting my gaze travel thoughtfully to the ceiling. There’s some strange stucco patterns up there; some of them look like faces.

“…How much have you drank already?” Relena slowly asks me, sounding worried. I shake my hand side to side, shrugging my shoulder. I’m still looking up at the ceiling, fascinated that the faces are _moving._

“Dunno. Not ‘nuff.”

“You know, you’re like… the poster boy for alcoholism,” she points out to me. Hah, as if I haven’t heard _that_ one a million times already.

That might not be a good sign. Having no desire to look deeply into my drinking habits, I try to turn the tables back on her.

“Look who’s talkin’! Whadd’ya call tha’ in yer ‘and?”

Relena’s not impressed with my sly action. She raises her bottle slowly, letting me watch it move towards her lips. They pucker as the bottle meets flesh, and she tilts it ever so slowly, the liquid sliding into her mouth before being swallowed loudly. Moving her bottle back into her lap, she raises a thin, blonde brow at me.

“I don’t drink it all the time, like _you_ do.”

I brush off the accusation much like I brush off everything aimed towards me. I even feel kind enough to tell her how I feel.

“Need it t’function norm’ly.”

“Spoken like a true drunk,” she sighs, and I roll over, clutching my empty bottle to my chest.

“Shudda ‘ell up!”

She laughs, the sound ringing through the room and bringing a small grin to my face. I can almost forget, just for a moment, that this will soon end. That her older brother will be here later tonight, and his eye will be on me the entire time I’m here. It would be so easy to leave, to just pack my bags and be gone before he gets here.

But I might be the only thing standing between Relena and whatever’s out to get her. I’m not making myself sound overly important - or, well, I’m not _trying_ to - but the guys don’t know shit about anything outside of their safe little manuals. Hell, I don’t even think they’re _psychic_. What the hell they’re doing playing Ghost Hunters is still a mystery to me.

They’re good at their job, don’t get me wrong, but I haven’t seen either of them do anything that would make them as damn good as they are! Sure, Wufei has a shit ton of books, but half of them he can’t use without psychic ability. Heero… well, he’s fuckin’ creepy, but that ain’t a power.

“You’re thinking again,” Relena murmurs, and I just nod.

Yeah, I’m thinking of why I’m still here.

I twist around on the sofa, tossing one leg up over the back, the other across the armrest, and pillow my head against the empty bottle. I quietly watch her for a few seconds, trying to get my thoughts to come out into understandable words. I mostly succeed.

“We’re gonna make y’better ‘gain, ‘kay?” I promise. Her eyes dim at my words, and she closes them to give me a bright smile.

“I know. It’s why I asked you to come. I _know_ you can help me, like you helped my mother.”

I don’t bother to point out that her mother helped _me_ more than I helped her. Instead, I let my hand wander for another bottle of the wine Relena dragged out of the basement. I never really liked wine, at least until Relena coerced me into drinking some.

My hand hits glass, and I latch on, dragging the much-too-light bottle to eye-level. Empty. I drop it, the muffled ‘thud’ of the glass meeting carpet ringing between me and the other bottles in the same state. Relena smiles, and shakes her head.

“Looks like we’re out for now. And here you were saying that you didn’t like it.”

“N’ver ‘ad it b’this good ‘fore,” I admit, and she gives me a knowing grin.

“You can’t pick up a bottle of the best at your local liquor store; imported is the best way to go.” I blink, trying to figure out what that means in my poor addled brain.

“Y’mean th’aint th’cheap’un?” The words come out much too garbled, my shock and lack of concentration slurring everything into almost a single sound.

Relena’s laughter echoes through my skull.

“I’d say not! You drank through thousands of dollars’ worth of wine in less than three hours, Duo!”

* * *

 

“Kill me now,” I moan dramatically, draping myself across the bed. Wufei’s ignoring me from his own bed, nose buried in some book. I don’t bother trying to see which one, instead taking the pillow and pressing it down over the top of my head. I sigh in relief at the cool pressure, closing my eyes and nuzzling the blanket under me.

I think I dozed off, because Wufei’s shaking me awake and shouting something at me. I groan, pulling the pillow back over my face.

“St’p yellin’,” I mumble, turning onto my side. I’m still pressing the pillow against my head, but Wufei yanks it away from me.

Fuckin’ hell, does he _have_ to point flashlights right in my face?

“Get _up!_ You were supposed to be watching the cameras an hour ago!” he yells at me, and I glower at him. Well, I glower as best as I can when I can barely open my eyes past slits.

Why is it so bright?

“You’re the worst example of a man I’ve ever seen,” he tells me.

I can’t argue against that. I know myself well enough to agree with him.

“Mhmm.

“Why you— you—insufferable—gah!” His fingers are tightly fisted in the collar of my shirt, and the rattling of the world is making it _very_ hard to keep my stomach where it belongs. My head lolls side to side as Wufei shakes me, but soon my world stops moving (thankfully).

“Nnnngh!”

“…how much _did_ you two drink?” Wufei asks me, after a few silent moments.

“Twelve grand,” I groan. “Twelve grand right down my throat.”

The world shifts again, but this time not from Wufei shaking me again. My head painfully collides with the floor, my body flopping out of bed as gravity wins another round with me. I swear (loudly) at the sudden pain, and I can’t stop myself from throwing up.

I make sure Wufei’s leg is right in the way, too.

“Eeugh!” Wufei’s leg connects with my side, and I curl up protectively, my head and stomach hurting too much to want to stand up, or shit, even move _away_.

“You stupid, idiotic, worthless piece of flesh!” he bellows. I don’t know how many times he kicks me, but I know when it stops.

“Chang, stop.”

Heero’s voice rings through the room, and I dare to crack my eye open when I don’t feel the next blow land. His foot, the one that still has my puke staining it, is hovering mere inches away from me, and I close my eyes again.

“Duo, get off the floor.”

I try to listen, but my arms are shaking too badly. I can’t tell if it’s the hangover, the shock from Relena’s price quote, or the pain racing through my entire body (or, fuck it, all three), but I just don’t seem able to listen to my boss.

“I said get _up_.”

“’M tryin’, realleeee….” I groan, sliding back down to the floor. I throw up again, but this time I can’t turn my head enough to stop it from choking me.

Warm hands turn my face, and the rest of the bile escapes to the floor. I greedily suck down air, my entire body shaking.

“Don’t drink on the job ever again. Do you understand me?”

“P’rfectleee,” I cough, and I press my face into the damp cloth moving across my cheek and chin.

Heero lifts me from the floor, holding me up with one arm as he peels off my clothes. Once he has me under the covers of my bed, his hand lingers on my forehead for a moment, before it’s replaced with the chilled air.

I’m missing the warmth. Why is it always so damn cold?

“Chang. Base, _now_.”

“Understood,” Wufei mumbles, and I listen to him leave.

“Rest for now. Your behaviour will be discussed when you are well again.”

I don’t respond, already feeling Morpheus pulling me under.

* * *

 

I think Heero’s mad at me. Actually, no, no I don’t.

I _know_ he’s pissed at me.

I don’t know how long I slept, but Heero yanked me out of bed, and already had me dragged halfway down the hall toward the base by the time I was able to figure out what the fuck was going on. He didn’t let me go, either, and he didn’t go into the base.

He shoves me into one of the (many) bathrooms, pushing me into the shower and turning on the faucet. Icy water flows over me, waking me up completely with a startled scream.

I slam against the wall, trying to move out of the freezing (why is it not warming up?!) downpour, but Heero shoves me back under it.

The remains of my hangover, and the vomit that got stuck in my hair, go down the drain. When the still cold water finally turns off, he grabs my arms again, pulling me out of the tub.

I don’t get to walk this time. He lifts me up, throwing me over his shoulder and stomping out of the bathroom. I can’t see where we’re going, my loosened and soaked hair plastered over my face.

“Heero! Put me down!” I splutter, punching his back. He ignores me, and I twist, hoping that he would have a hard time holding onto my wet (and did I mention very, very naked?) skin. But it doesn’t seem to be a problem for him, because I don’t do much else except shake my ass for the world to see.

Oh god, where the hell’s he taking me?

“Let me go!” I yell, digging my fingers into his side. The fucker doesn’t even _flinch_ , though he digs his own into the back of my knee.

Can I say ouch?

“Fuckin’ son of a bitch!” I hiss, my teeth clenching in pain. I want to move the hair out of my face, but my hands are too busy trying to hold onto Heero to work with me. I feel like I’m about to slide off of him at any moment, but it never happens.

“I said put me _dow—_ Oof!”

The air’s knocked from my chest as my back hits the floor.

Did he—

“Don’t throw me around!” I scream at him, any hint of calm left. He stares at me coolly, his blue eyes not showing me anything useful; kind of like the man they belong to.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” I demand, and the bastard finally says something.

“You are.” I feel my body grow colder (which I didn’t think was possible) at the words, my heart chilling.

For a moment, I see long, blond hair surrounding that frozen face.

Blinking, it shortens and turns brown again, but my hands are still shaking; it’s not from the cold.

“Your actions are unacceptable. I have put up with your unorthodox methods and rash behaviour, as you have proven useful—”

_“Your usefulness has come to an end, little brother.”_

“—ignoring the problem.”

I shake my head, my breath coming in short gasps.

“No, no no no…” I moan, my fingers burying into my hair and gripping my ears. “No!”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t understand what I am talking about!” he snaps harshly, his fingers curling into his palms. “Exerting power over another person—”

 _“Look,” he urges, smoothing his hand over my hair. “Look at how they all bend to my will. Look at how powerful I am now, because of_ you _.”_

“Stop!” I scream, squeezing my eyes shut. I know if I don’t slow down, I’m going to start hyperventilating, but fuck it if my body will listen to me. “Stop talking!”

“It won’t work a second time.”

My eyes flash open, my head tilting up to look at my boss. My boss, who always seems so much older than me. The difference is hard to ignore as I cower before him, like a small child. It doesn’t help that I feel like one right now, too.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I gasp. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“…Duo?”

I see a hand reaching out for me, but I can’t tell who it is. Is it Heero?

Or is it Solo?

I feel a sharp pain in my chest, a power building under my skin as a single plea flashes across my mind.

_‘Don’t touch me!’_

The power surrounds me, a sensation as comfortable as a lover’s embrace on my skin.

Through the haze that surrounds me, I see the shocked expression on Heero Yuy’s face. If the situation hadn’t just gone ass-up, I’d find it hilarious.

Another thought crosses my mind, which grounds my racing heart.

“Oh fuck,” I mumble, burying my face into my knees. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I’m _so_ fired. God damn it all.

When I get my breathing back under control, I look up to find myself in an empty room. The world is hazy to me, but it’s easy enough to ignore. It’s kind of like being drunk, but without the other setbacks that come with it.

“Probably the best time to get dressed,” I mutter, pushing myself off of the ground. My legs wobble, but I catch myself on the wall. I get to know the walls very well as they help me get all the way back to my room and to my bed. Sliding on some jeans and one of Wufei’s shirts, I consider going back to sleep. I just as quickly toss that idea out the door.

No way in _hell_ am I sleeping around those two again. Not after their _generous_ wake-up calls!

“Let’s go see what’s brewing in the lab,” I decide, talking aloud.

It’s not like anyone can hear me, so what’s there to worry about?

The thought depresses me. A lot of thoughts are depressing me at the moment. Like the one where I’m going to die. Or the one that I just lost my job. Or that I royally fucked up. Don’t forget the one where I drank through twelve grand of wine.

Yeah, can’t forget _that_ one.

Wufei and Heero are in the base, and I just sit against the wall watching them. They’re looking for me, but until I turn myself back ‘on’ it’s pointless.

Why rush the inevitable?

“He’s nowhere in the building!” Wufei calls out, slumping over the desk. His face is cradled in his hands, his shoulders slouching in a way I’ve never seen before.

“Are you positive?” Heero’s face is blank again, closed off from everything around him.

“Yes. There is no trace of him in any of the feeds. He literally vanished, and did not reappear in this manor.”

“Could he be on the grounds?”

“No, the building’s security camera and motion sensors did not detect any activity.”

It’s strange, really, to listen to two people talk about me like I’m not here. Not that they know I _am,_ but it’s still pretty damn creepy.

What’s creepier is the concern in Wufei’s voice. I didn’t think he had it in him, really.

 _‘Liar,’_ my mind whispers, and I ignore it. He kicked the shit out of me, I’m going to delude myself as much as I fuckin’ want to!

Besides, Wufei always calls me petty and shallow. Might as well, right?

“Look, there’s nothing more that can be done tonight,” Wufei finally says, closing the lid to the laptop. “There’s still a case to investigate, and the brother is due to arrive at any time. His assistance can be given, as there are probably secret rooms only known to the family. With the matron’s memories available to him, he could just be hiding from us.”

Well, that’s a pretty nifty idea. I didn’t think about doing that.

Wait, Zechs is coming tonight?

“Who’s hiding?”

...and speak of the Devil.

Standing tall in the doorway is Serena’s son, his gaze darting between the two men behind the desk. Behind him, Trowa stands patiently, and a concerned-looking Quatre is trying to peer around the two blocking his way.

“Did Duo leave or something?” the smaller blond asks, and it doesn’t take long for them all to be sitting around the desk, hashing out the day’s events.

I tune them out, trying to figure out what I’m doing. My apartment’s gone, I doubt I’ll be welcome at anyone’s place after this… Cathy’s going to be pissed at me, too.

I close my eyes, the sounds of arguing lulling me to sleep.

* * *

 

It’s been two more days since I ‘vanished’ into thin air. It’s surreal to be living among people who can’t see me; makes me sympathize with the souls stuck here after death. It’s why Solo hated me doing this, because of the ‘bleeding heart’ I had.

Can’t sacrifice people if I don’t want them to die, now can I?

“Stop it,” I tell myself again. I’ve probably said it at least every ten minutes, as my bitter thoughts keep turning over and over again in my mind. A full-scale manhunt went down the first day, with no results. Relena’s also been searching, but she spends most of her time in Serena’s secret room, sleeping or reading her mother’s notes.

It’s on the second night that I let the haze sink back into my body, when Heero’s finally alone on camera duty. I make sure I’m sitting in the chair across the desk, so that he can see me clearly.

I also make sure it’s out of his immediate reach.

“Hey,” I whisper, not wanting to startle him too badly.

I’ve had plenty of time to think over the last couple of days. My anger’s cooled, and by this point I’m ready to accept whatever happens to me.

I just wish I knew what was happening _to_ me.

“Duo?!”

Heero’s staring at me, as if I’m—well, a ghost. I try to smile, but it falls flat.

“Yeah.”

He’s silent, looking me over carefully. I fidget under his scrutiny, adverting my eyes to the wall behind him.

“You are injured,” he notes, and my temper flares for a moment.

It goes out just as quickly, the exhaustion winning out.

“Yeah, I hurt my back when you tossed me, and Wufei got some good hits in before you showed up that morning,” I tell him.

“You are also missing your talisman.”

I brush my fingers along my neck, the chain that once drove me nuts now unbearably absent.

“It couldn’t stand up to the power. It was made to suppress things, not allow them to happen.”

“What did happen?”

“I took a break from reality.”

He stares at me, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“Elaborate.”

I chew on my lower lip, trying to think of how to explain what I do. I don’t understand it myself.

“I… uh. I made it so that no one could see me, or hear me, or be aware of me…”

“An illusionist?”

“Nah. Solo said it’s the senses or somethin’ like that th’ first time I did it. Like, I’m still here, y’just ain’t allowed t’notice anythin’ I dun wantcha too?”

“Understood. I was unaware of your ability to do this.”

“I… I haven’t used it in over ten years,” I admit. “It hurt to use it, an’ I’m sure I wouldnt’ve been able t’turn myself back on right away.”

“This ability causes you damage?”

“Nah, it’s like tryin’ t’stretch yer muscles after bein’ in bed a whole decade...”

“So uncomfortable, but not damaging.”

“Yeah, stretchin’ the ol’ muscles an’ all that shit.”

“You said that already.”

“I know,” I mutter, staring at the floor.

“The others will be glad to see you have returned.” I look up at Heero, a question burning in my heart. He looks me in the eye, and gives me the answer to my unvoiced thought.

“I would rather not have to hire a new desk clerk. The latest filing system you set up is incomprehensible.”

I can’t help it, I throw back my head and laugh.

It’s comfortable after that, the silence that surrounds us as we watch the monitors. But at three-forty in the morning, things get interesting again.

I’m not one to be familiar with how girls spend their time, but I’m _pretty_ sure they don’t try to leave the house through the bathroom window.

“Go wake the others, there’s activity going on,” Heero demands, and I don’t waste time.

Oh, I can’t _wait_ to get Wufei up.


	8. Case 6 (Part 2)

I’m not sure how I wind up on my back, Wufei’s hands gripping me tightly, and his mouth sealed over mine, but I’m pretty fucking sure it’s not _my_ fault. All I did was shake his shoulder, looming over him as creepily as I can, and next thing I know he’s yanking me down.

Oh, I push him away, but he leaps out from the covers and tackles me to the ground.

“Fucking shit, man, get _off_ of me!” I holler, trying to swing at his face. He pins my arm to the ground, though, and resumes trying to suffocate me with his tongue.

The banging of wood against plaster doesn’t distract him, but apparently lifting him into the air works. Tossing him across the room does, too. Trowa’s the one looming over me now, his arms outstretched and his face as blank as it ever is.

Panting, I push myself up off the floor, warily watching Wufei do the same. Apparently, meeting Wufei’s eyes isn’t the smartest thing to do, because as his gaze locks with mine, he pounces. Again. And, once again, I’m on my back, choking. And, once _again,_ Trowa’s pulling him off of me, tossing him to the side.

“Get back!” Trowa snaps at me, and I scramble behind his legs, barely able to avoid the hand reaching for me. Trowa kicks out, catching Wufei in the chest and sending him back to ‘his’ side of the room.

 It doesn’t seem to make a difference, though, as he only keeps trying. After the third kick, even _I’m_ starting to feel sorry for the guy. His nose’s bleeding heavily from where Trowa’s steel-toe boot met it straight on, yet his eyes are still fixed on me.

I close my eyes, pain blossoming in my temples as I’m pushing my hands against my eyes hard. When I open them again, Heero’s standing beside Trowa, both of them in front of me and in Wufei’s way. But he’s not, well, not trying to jump me again.

“Wh… what happened?” he slurs, slumping against the wall behind him. I try to level my breathing, scooting a little further away from the trio.

“What do you last remember?” Heero snaps out, his words as sharp as his gaze. Wufei’s only shows confusion, swaying side to side absently.

“…Duo? I-I can’t remember—”

“Focus.” Heero’s voice softens slightly, his legs shifting his weight more towards Trowa. “What do you remember?”

“I was asleep, then… Duo woke me up? It gets blurry after that.”

“You were attempting to seduce Duo rather violently,” Heero clarifies for the man, and Wufei’s cheeks go rather pasty.

“That’s normally referred to as rape,” Trowa corrects quietly, and Heero shrugs.

“Technicality.”

“I-I what?” Wufei stumbles over his words, his eyes darting around. They slide towards me, but just keep going by. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine now,” Heero assures blandly, his eyes staying focused on the man in front of him. Trowa’s dart toward me, but I don’t hold his gaze for long. My focus jumps from Heero to Wufei to Trowa, then rinse and repeat. My breath is starting to even out, my hands loosening their grip against my jeans. “Focus on me.”

Wufei stops searching around the room, his face turning once again towards our boss.

“Go to the base, I’m going to go help Duo now,” Heero suggests, and Wufei nods, his legs trembling as he pushes himself off the floor. As soon as he leaves, Heero turns and stares me in the eye.

“What. Happened.”

It’s not a question, and I don’t have an answer. I blink tiredly, my head pounding angrily and the room starting to swim.

“M’head… ‘urts,” I slur, slumping sideways. As the adrenaline fades, the headache grows worse, but two arms wrap around my chest, pulling me upright.

“What’s going on?” I hear Trowa ask, his voice hazy. Heero’s voice is distant, too far for me to understand.

“Lift his feet – shock – can’t see him?”

“No – unclear – information.”

“—Missing for days, Yuy, that’s not a little problem!”

“What concern is it to you?” Heero asks bluntly, and it’s at this point that I notice my head’s not hurting as much. I try to talk, but start coughing instead.

“Here, drink this.” Heero’s shoving a cup into my hand, and I take a sip, the lukewarm water burning against the rough edges of my throat.

“I take it that you did your… thing again, to make Wufei unable to perceive you?” Heero asks me, and I nod, rubbing at my temple.

“Yet we are able to still know you are presently with us.”

“Yeah. S’not an all-or-nothin’ thing,” I admit, scooting myself up into a sitting position. Trowa’s quick to slide behind me, letting me lean against him as Heero grills me. I can feel his hand sliding across my neck, moving my braid out from between us. It drops in front of me, pooling in my lap. My hands quickly seize it, playing with the tail nervously.

“Elaborate.”

Wow, Heero, you don’t ask for much, do you?

“Well, s’like this. ‘Fore, I made y’not see me. But it’s all of you that time. This time, s’just the Wu I’m playing hooky with. Y’know I’m here, ‘cause I’m lettin’ ya. It takes less brain t’do it, an’ I didn’t really mean to… It’s defensive.”

“His assault against you triggered a defense mechanism, which manifested in your ability to make him unable to locate you by sight?”

“Or sound, or smell, or touch,” I correct him. “I could go up to him and poke him in the eye, and all he’d know is his eye suddenly hurts. He’d not know it was me, though.”

“Do you know the cause behind Chang’s sudden assault?”

“Nu-uh.” I reply, shaking my head lightly. “I was just gonna scare the shit outta him, an’ next thin’ I know, he’s tryin’ t’jump my bones.”

“If neither of you were the instigator of this phenomenon, it’s to be investigated further. How long can you keep yourself invisible to Chang?”

“I’ma have to wait at least another day,” I sigh. “I wasn’ ready t’do it ‘gain so soon. S’why my head hurts so bad.”

“Please reverse this effect as soon as you feasibly can. I would like to observe the reaction, and will put in place the necessary precautions if whatever is causing him to attack you has not faded.”

“Got it,” I salute sloppily, and Heero turns from me, leaving the room swiftly. I let my head fall back against Trowa’s shoulder, groaning tiredly.

“Fuck this shit,” I mutter bitterly. “why is it always _me_?”

“You’re just irresistible,” Trowa murmurs, running his hands up my arms. I shiver, pressing into his chest. Moist lips press against my exposed neck as his hands slide across my chest.

“Mmm.” I can’t stop the moan from escaping my lips, the air parting them slightly as I melt under his attention. His lips turn up in a smirk before his teeth join them in marking my skin.

“Oooh, keep doing that,” I plea, shifting to spread my legs out in front of me. My hands are curling into fists, my jeans keeping me grounded and focused on the marvelous thing he’s doing to my neck. I also track Trowa’s hands making their way down my chest, dancing across my sides and stomach, before stretching down to cover my hands as well.

Unable to resist anymore, I twist around in his hold, pressing my lips against his firmly, splaying my fingers across his chest as I push him down. I take in his face, flushed and _alive_ , his lips parted to draw in rapid breaths and his eyes fixed on mine, mesmerizing me. I lean down, gently nipping his lower lip and drawing it into my mouth.

As I let my hands slide under his shirt, feeling his trailing along my back, it’s inevitable that something will come along and fuck this up.

And of course, it’s in the form of Quatre Winner.

“Trowa! I heard shouting and—Oh, Duo! You’re back!”

I sigh, sitting up and letting my head drop down. Trowa pushes against my chest, and I slide to the side, resigned to the fact that this little… whatever it was, is not going to be happening.

“I—uh, I—” I tune out Quatre’s embarrassed rambling, as the other man realizes what he’s interrupted.

“It’s good, just… go back to work, Tro,” I mutter, straightening my shirt. Trowa helps me, his hand resting against my lower back before he steps away, his attention now solely focused on Quatre.

“Get some rest,” Trowa murmurs as he passes me, his fingers trailing across my skin as he follows his employer out of the room.

I groan miserably, flopping down onto my side.

Yeah, not a chance in hell I’m getting any rest. Not with _this_ hard-on.

* * *

 

It’s a couple hours later that I finally drag myself back into the base, twisting my damp hair into a braid. With each plait I add, a little water squeezes out, but I kept a towel around my shoulders just for this reason.

“So what’s going on? Anything funky show up?”

“Negative.” Wufei looks up as Heero talks, his eyes darting around the room.

“And Relena? Is she okay?” I ask, coming to lean against the desk beside Heero. He shakes his head again, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

“She was apprehended about two-hundred feet from the window she jumped from. After bringing her back, she remained in her room until oh-eight-hundred, where she then proceeded to use the bathroom located two doors down from her and returned to her quarters at oh-eight-four-five.”

“…Who are you talking to?” Wufei wonders, but Heero ignores him, instead flipping open some folders and pushing them my way.

“I’m going over her family records to see if the dilemma could be a new power surfacing late. So far I haven’t come up with any of her ancestors showing unusual abilities—”

“But I’ve had Serena in my head,” I finish, seeing where he’s going with this. “Any verbal records would still be with her.”

“Ms. Peacecraft would also be a source to interview—”

“But Serena died when she was young. She might never have heard the stories.”

“Milliardo—”

“Can suck my dick for all I care,” I snap, and relish the twitch developing above Heero’s left eye.

“Yuy? Are you feeling alright?” Wufei asks, concern heavily coating his words. “No one’s there, and I know you can’t see spirits.”

“If he can provide any information regarding genealogical--”

“I’ll get it from Serena. Now say something to Wuffers before he has a stroke,” I cut in, gesturing to the man beside Heero. Heero rolls his eyes at me – Heero 14, me 9 – before turning his chair to face Wufei.

“I need you to take temperature readings for every room and floor, and to get a reading every hour to establish a good baseline level. Coordinate with any remaining staff to see if there are temperature controls active in any areas, and what those are normally set to at any time.”

Wufei splutters, mouth opening and closing several times before he clenches his jaw.

“Fine!” he snarls, getting to his feet and snatching the handheld temp gauge from the table. As he storms past me, I flick him with the end of my braid. He flinches, spinning wildly around.

“Don’t play around,” Heero points out tonelessly. “There’s a lot of space to cover.”

Wufei doesn’t say anything, just lets his fingers trail over the damp spot my hair left on him. I snicker, stealing the chair he’d been sitting in and watching him run out of the room.

“You’re positively _evil_ ,” I crow, and Heero raises a brow at me.

“Get to work, Duo, before I fire you.”

“Got it, captain!” I salute, picking up the first folder and flipping it open. I lean back in the chair, propping my feet on the table and settling in for a long read.

* * *

 

“Okay, Serena, let’s see if the private records are any more interesting,” I mutter to myself, letting my fingers trail along the wall. Feeling the hidden latch, I let my fingers sink into the wall, twisting and gripping the lever firmly. The wall slides out, revealing a room only known to me in her memories.

“Let’s take a look around, shall we?” I ask aloud, as if the long-dead woman can hear me. I don’t get a response – which is normal, she’s _dead_ – and I start pulling open the filing cabinets, reading through the file tabs for anything, well, interesting-looking.

“Taxes, bills, taxes, deeds, taxes, fuck, this is boring,” I groan, slamming the drawer shut. It rattles loudly, reverberating through the room and making my ears ring.

“Oww,” I groan, clapping my hands to my head. It’s still sore from pulling my disappearing act on Wufei, and really, for my own good it’d probably be smart of me to stop pissing it off more.

When I open my eyes again, it’s obvious something’s different. My shadow – which had been on my left – is now on my right. Unless I blacked out, mini-me should still be on my left. Which, thinking about it, doesn’t matter; there’s no windows in this room.

I spin around, throwing my fist out. In vain. It’s caught in another hand – not mine – and gripping tightly, is used to pull me closer to the other.

That smell and hair is unmistakable.

“Hello, dickwad,” I greet cheerfully, bringing my knee straight up. It’s blocked by _his_ knee, which he then uses to hook around my still-grounded foot. Which, now, doesn’t stay grounded that long. I land on my ass (really, _really_ hard. Motherfucker!) and he crouches over me, his eyes sending me into déjà vu.

Wufei had this look on his face, right before Trowa kicked the living shit out of him.

“Oh, fuck no,” I breathe, twisting to the side. Zechs pins me down, limb matching limb to keep me still. My eyes widen, panic spreading through my veins.

 _Shit, no, can’t go there!_ I mentally scream at the feeling, trying to calm myself quickly. I’d already pulled it once, I can’t do it again. Not this soon!

…Well, I could. If I want to live as a vegetable the rest of my life.

 _Trowa, now would be a great time to pop up out of the woodwork!_ I call out, though it never leaves my lips, as my throat is closed tightly in fear. I can feel myself shaking, adrenaline drenching rationality and sharpening my vision.

_All the better to see you with._

“No one’s coming to save you now, little one,” Zechs teases, leaning in closer. His breath caresses my cheek, followed by the long draw of his tongue. “Just you, and me. Doesn’t that make you happy?”

“As happy as getting an amputation,” I gasp, trying once again to pull myself out of his hold… and failing miserably.

“Don’t be like that, now. You should feel honoured! You’re the favourite, after all. A little pet, tagging along after his masters.”

My mind grinds to a stop, the words echoing in my head.

“Who are you?” I ask suddenly, and Zechs’ eyes widen. I lean up, bringing my face closer to his. “I know you’re not Zechs Merquise, because he wouldn’t ever _think_ of laying a finger on me like this. So… who are _you_?”

I feel my wrists start to burn with raw power, flaring visibly from my skin. Zechs pulls back, and the power courses through my body. My lungs release their own pained cry, but it’s nothing like _his_. I scramble backwards, finally free of my human bond, and slam my back against the wall.

“Tell me! Who are you?!” I scream, holding my hand out towards the other man. It’s burning with unfocused power, brightly glowing and growing from my skin. It hurts like a bitch, but considering the alternative, I’d rather have this instead.

“You already know who I am,” Zechs says, eyes fixed on my palm. “Or, as you would put it, _what_ I am. The rest is up for you to decide. After all, it’s no fun if I give it all away.”

With that, the room flares white before plunging into darkness. Panting, I’m holding out my still-glowing-still-hurting-like-a-mo’fo hand, but it’s not that good of a life-source.

Good enough, though, to see that Zechs Merquise isn’t moving.

I drop my hand, exhaustion creeping over my senses.

“No, no no,” I mutter, using the wall to get me to my feet. “Not yet, get the door open, Duo. Just get the door open.”

I get three steps before the ground meets me, and I close my eyes.

I hope someone eventually finds us.

* * *

 

Hands brush against my forehead, cool and soft. Eyes fluttering open, the first thing I see are dancing lights.

I’m back here, again, and apparently Serena’s joining me once more.

“S’riously,” I slur, my mouth numb with fatigue, “y’gotta move ov’r ‘lready.”

“I think you should worry about yourself,” she says gently, still running her hand across my face. “There’s powerful forces at work, and you need to get some things off your chest before you try getting to them.”

“There’s always powerful forces at work,” I complain. “What’s so different about this one?”

“You need to open your eyes a little wider. Everyone else has, already. Think about what you’re doing, before you do it.”

“I don’t know what to do now,” I whisper, rolling onto my side. Serena wraps her fingers in my loose hair, trailing them through the strands before resting them back in her lap.

“Have you tried the archives? There’s always information to be found, if one knows what to ask.”

I open my mouth, closing it again just as quickly. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Be careful, you’re walking too close to the edge now. Your hands are going to slip; it’s only a matter of time.”

* * *

 

“He’s waking up,” someone says quietly, and hands flutter around my arms, their touches like flames against my skin. I flinch, trying to get away from the pain.

“Back up! Don’t crowd him! Duo, can you hear me?”

“Nngh,” I groan. “F’ck, y’re _loud_.”

“Sensory overload. Dim the lights.”

This time, something is brushing against my skin again, but it doesn’t hurt as much. It’s actually quite cool, and feels wonderful on my raw skin.

“Take your time, you did quite a bit of damage to yourself.”

“Nn?” I hum, confused. What did I do to myself? Where is—

“Zechs,” I breathe, twisting away from the hands still touching me. “Get away—”

“He’s not here. He brought you to us and gave us what little he remembered. It wasn’t much, but enough to know that something’s possessing people and appears to have a crush on you.”

That voice.

“…Wu?”

“Yes. Whatever it is you did to me, it broke when your power play against Zechs happened. Luckily for you, our sensors picked it up. We couldn’t find the room you had been trapped in, not until Zechs opened the wall up.”

“We also found the family records you’d been searching for, apparently,” another voice cuts in. Heero.

“H’ro,” I slur. “’lo.”

“Is he even listening?” a third voice. Trowa.

“G’d, why’re y’ll ‘ere?”

“You’re bombarding him with information. Give him time to reorient himself first!”

“F’cker,” I mumble in greeting, and the voices go quiet.

“Hello, Duo,” the fourth voice greets. I can’t place it though, not with a name. I just know I don’t think I like him.

“…Where,” I start, my lungs tight and heavy. I draw in another breath, trying again. “…Cathy? Where?”

“She went home over a week ago, Duo,” Trowa reminds me.

“…No. Here. Now. Need her here,” I protest. “Now! Phone!”

“Are you sure? You’ve been hallucinating for a while, Duo. Maybe you should rest first—”

“Shut up! Cathy!” I call out, hoping she can hear me.

“Just get him the phone. Letting him drunk dial his sister isn’t going to hurt anyone,” Wufei mutters, and something small is shoved into my palm. Larger hands wrap around mine, guiding my fingers.

I feel myself compress several buttons, before the hand guides it up to my ear. The call tone goes for three beats, before a young voice sounds on the line.

“Hello?”

“…Hey, kiddo. Is your mom there?” I ask, trying to not sound so… well… dead. I don’t think I pull it off, because I can hear the kid call out to Cathy.

“Mom! There’s a dead guy on the phone for you!”

Cathy’s voice is faint, but I can still hear it.

“Rafael, don’t be rude! Now give me the phone.”

My throat tightens, my head spinning for a moment.

 _That was my nephew, Solo’s kid_ , I realize, a little too late. The sounds of the phone being passed over, children laughing in the background, and a television running somewhere close to the phone is all I hear for a moment, before Cathy’s voice comes over the line.

“Hello?”

“Cathy?” I croak, and I hear her gasp, something clattering on her end.

“Oh, Duo! What’s wrong? What happened? Are you wearing your talisman, how soon do I need to get there? I can take a train—”

“The archive. Where is it right now?” I demand, and silence overwhelms both sides of the line.

“Duo? Can you just calm down and—”

“There’s no time, sis,” I cut in. “I need to find the archive.”

“…I’ll ask around. I haven’t kept track of it since your brother—”

“Good. Okay.” I lean back against Trowa, closing my eyes. One problem tackled.

“Now, answer me this. How much did you fuck yourself up?”

I roll my eyes. “Nothing too bad. It’ll take less than a day to get back on my feet.”

Silence reigns on the phone before she scoffs at me.

“Nice try. Do I need to find you a doctor?”

“No doctors!” I snap, but Cathy keeps going.

“I have a friend up at the hospital, she’ll be willing to help—”

“Cathy!” I try to break in, but she’s not listening.

“Now, don’t do anything stupid until we get there. Understand?”

I don’t get to respond, because the line goes dead. I snap the phone shut, groaning tiredly. I hear someone clear their throat, and my eyes fly open. It’s at this point I remember that I’m not alone.

Oh boy, Duo, good job.

“One at a time,” I plead, and Heero scowls.

“Fill us in at the base. We need to get you stabilized.”

It’s at this point that I realize I’m covered in blood.

“…Holy shit,” I hiss, the pain slamming into me all at once. Trowa’s holding onto me though, his words a low steady thrum in my head.

“Just keep breathing, Wufei’s about to take your legs, I have your arms. Heero’ll have your back, and Quatre will too. Just keep breathing, don’t black out again, okay?”

I focus on his instructions, unable to ignore his requests. In… out… oh… fuck… this… hurts… really… bad…

“You keep an IV… _and_ a blood bag?!” Quatre’s voice asks, perplexed. Heero’s responds, as if it’s a normal thing to carry around on a case.

“The first-aid kit’s been altered since Duo’s employment began.”

I think that’s a nice way to say I bleed out a lot. Or that I get the short end of the stick a lot, too. Or maybe even that I’m accident prone.

“Okay, put him down now, gently. Wufei, get the IV set up and start a low-dose painkiller and antibiotic. Wait until we can assess the damage before running the blood in.”

“Nngh, no,” I groan. “Jus’ gimme a beer, it’ll be good.”

“Alcohol is not going to fix this, Maxwell!” Wufei snaps, grabbing my wrist. He’s wiping away at it with a cloth, trying to clear a spot well enough to stab me. My head lolls to the side, meeting Trowa’s brilliant green eyes.

“I wanna beer,” I moan. “Hurts.”

Trowa crouches next to me, his hand resting against my forehead. Unlike before, I don’t feel like my skin is crawling; it’s been months since I’ve gotten that kind of reaction. I’ve grown used to it, knowing now how his power feels, not trying to keep it out. I feel him mingling with me, feeling how badly I’ve fucked myself over.

“…I’ll see what I can do. Until then, let Wufei play Doctor and pretend you’re a good patient. We need to get your physical body repaired before we move onto _that_ level.”

“Nn, bastard,” I whine, and he just shakes his head. I can see his eyes dancing in amusement.

“No, I don’t want the alcohol mixing with your medication. After you’re stable, I’ll bring you something that’s even better than beer, I promise.”

“Good. I’ll kill you if you don’t,” I warn him, and he shrugs.

“I’d like to see you try. Now _rest_.”

I turn my head again, watching Wufei play with the tube and bags.

“See? Someone loves me. Unlike you.”

Wufei snorts. “He provides a minor with alcohol, I don’t think that’s love.”

“Who’re you callin’ a kid?” I ask angrily, but Wufei’s ignoring me. “Damn it, I’m talking to you!”

“You were almost raped, _again_ , Duo,” Heero cuts in, saving Wufei from having to listen to me. I wince, refusing to look him in the eye. He kneels closer to me, his lips brushing against my ear as he says quietly, “Wufei is trying to earn your forgiveness.”

I nod, Wufei’s sudden helpfulness making more sense. Heero’s the one usually patching me up, but Wufei’s refused to let anyone else near me. I give in, letting myself be pampered; well, as much as having needles and blood forced into my body lets me. Wufei leans back, wiping bloody hands on his white pants, and I take the chance to reach out and snatch his wrist. Blank, dark brown eyes are watching me warily, and I quirk up the side of my mouth.

“No hard feelings, ‘kay? I _know_ I’m sexy,” I reassure him with a wink, and he pulls his hand away, disgusted.

But I also see the relief my words give him.

“’Sides!” I yawn, feeling the sedatives kicking in, “I hit ya with’a fuckin’ car. Call it even?”

“Whatever,” he mutters, and I laugh.

* * *

 

“You stubborn, reckless, idiotic _moron!_ ” Cathy yells, slamming the door to the room open. “If there were _any_ doubts of you and Solo being related, they’ve been cleared!”

“Hey sis,” I greet, and she snarls at me, crossing her arms over her now-prominent belly.

“Don’t even _start_ that with me. Playing sweet isn’t going to get you _any_ points with me. Didn’t I tell you to not do a fucking thing until I got here? And what, you land yourself on bed rest, on a god damn IV with a blood transfusion!”

“That was before I called you!” I shout back, trying to defend my honour. Really… I didn’t do anything after I called her, and now I’m getting chewed out for it?

“He really didn’t,” Quatre cuts in, and I sigh, rolling my eyes. Damn it, now I can’t pretend he’s not in the room still. Cathy turns her furious gaze to him, and he steps back a bit.

“I was not addressing you Mr. Winner. Now please, shut up or get the fuck out of here.”

I don’t blame the blond for bolting. Fuck, if I was sure I could stand up at the moment, I’d be following right behind him. But I still can’t help but feel the dread as the only witness now leaves the room, leaving me and the Harpy alone.

“What the fuck happened here?” Cathy demands, and I scoot myself up a bit, ignoring the pain searing down my arms.

“I was defendin’ myself. Somethin’ fucked up’s goin’ on here, an’ I’m fate’s bitch ‘gain.”

I don’t know if I’ve made this clear before, but women are terrifying. I watch as Cathy goes from raging mad to on the brink of tears in a split-second. Her arms are wrapping around me – painfully – and choking the life out of me.

“Oh, you idiot,” she sniffs, burying her face into my hair. I grimace, but don’t have the energy – or leverage – to shove her off of me. Wiping at her eyes, she leans back, giving me a watery stare. I advert my eyes, uncomfortable.

It’s at this point another woman walks into the room, a white smock covering her entire body. Curly blonde hair is draped over each shoulder, tangling down her chest and framing a distinctly-Asian face. Her blue eyes, along with that hair, give away that she’s probably not as Asian as Wufei is.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Po,” the woman greets me, holding her hand out to mine. I stare at it for several long moments before she drops it with a frown.

“Your sister said you’d be difficult, so I’ll get right to it then. Can you explain to me what happened to get you injured?”

She starts pulling out shiny shit from her bag, and doohickies I’m pretty damn sure I don’t want anywhere near my body are being lined up neatly on the nightstand. Cathy moves away, sitting next to my bed instead of all over my lap.

As I decide how to answer her, I scratch my head a little, wincing at the grimy feeling under my nails. God damn it, I fuckin’ want a shower.

“Well, it’s kind’a like this,” I start, trying to figure out the best way to even put _what happened_ into words. “One of the dudes here got possessed by whatever we came to find, and it made him try to jump me.”

“Please clarify that, Mr. Maxwell,” she interrupts. “Jump you as in a physical assault, a sexual assault, or a combination of both?”

“Er, the second one? Though, there was some of the first with other dudes,” I admit, “and the last guy was tryin’ both of ‘em.”

“Did they succeed? Because if so I’ll need to examine you for damage,” she explains, and I widen my eyes, shaking my head rapidly.

“No no no, they didn’t get far ‘nuff,” I assure her, waving my bandaged hands in front of me wildly. “Heero interrupted the first guy, an’ then I got the second guy off’ve me. Tro’ kicked the third guy off me, an’ I knocked out the fourth’un.”

“Sounds like you’ve had a rough week, so far,” Po notes. I grimace, turning away from her.

“Yeah, tell me ‘bout it.”

“Why don’t you? Some of these injuries appear to be burns.” I frown, looking at my blistered skin

“They are, I guess,” I agree, “but… they’re not real burns? It wasn’t fire, it was power.”

“Yet it achieves the same effect? Marvelous!” She’s in awe, prodding at my tender flesh and twisting my arm so she can see it better. I yelp, tugging it away from her.

“Gentle with the goods!” I scold, and she laughs, snatching my arm again.

“Oh, Mr. Maxwell, I’m sure you’ve endured worse than an exam.”

It doesn’t get any better from that point, and she keeps poking, prodding, and taking pieces of me away to examine later at some point. Cathy doesn’t stop her either, and at one point she even abandons me to go find Trowa. When Sally finally leaves me with my remaining parts, I sink down on the bed, exhausted.

“Have fun?” Heero asks, stepping into the room. I scowl, turning away from him.

No, I’m _not_ pouting. My actions are completely justifiable!

“I believe some concerns should be addressed first, then a meeting will be held to see how to proceed from this point on.”

My muscles are tense, ready for the verbal (or physical, the guy’s already done it once) lashing I’m about to get. But to my surprise, it’s not accusation that’s tossed at me.

“First, I need to apologize for my actions toward you prior to your first manifestation of power. I am unsure of what came over me, but I now believe it might be involved with the same symptoms that overcame Chang and Lord Peacecraft.”

“No biggie,” I shrug. “I was a little more worried ‘bout losing my job.”

“That was never considered,” Heero states, and I sag against the wall, relieved.

“Now, the other concern that needs to be addressed is your exertion of will over myself and Chang.”

“…Eh?” I have no clue what the fuck he’s talking about. Heero sighs, pinching the ridge of his nose.

“At oh-four-hundred Tuesday morning, you issued a verbal order to me. This order was empowered with energy, compelling me to obey against my will. The same thing occurred to Chang when you forced him to help you relocate me to another room.”

“…Well, fuck,” I finally say, not knowing what else _to_ say. “Never did that ‘fore.”

“That occurred to me after you disappeared. Now, I shall be calling everyone for a planning meeting, which will take place here as you are unable to attend anywhere else.”

“Okay,” I respond, picking at my blanket. Well, fuck me sideways, Heero Yuy gave me an apology. I didn’t know that was _possible_.

Maybe at some point, I’ll give one back.

* * *

 

“Do we have any idea of what we’re dealing with here?” Cathy asks, sitting to the right of me. Trowa’s on her other side, next to Quatre. On my left is Relena, who is using my lap as a pillow. Zechs is sitting stiffly next to her – too close to me for my own comfort – and Wufei is on his other side. Sally’s to Wufei’s left, and Heero’s on _her_ left, which is on Quatre’s right.

It’s strange to think that this is the first time all of us have been in the same room since arriving here. Normally on cases Quatre contracts us for, he’s not present. Or Trowa, for that matter; except when he comes to torture or humiliate me. Cathy’s never been on a case with me before, and, well, Sally hasn’t stopped saying how “Amazing! Fantastic! Brilliant! Marvelous!” every little thing is yet.

Out of all of us, I hate to say that Zechs is probably the only one sharing my sentiment of this pow-wow. We both have the “Get me the fuck out of here!” face going on. And we’re still here for the same reason, too.

Relena.

Who’s clutching onto me tightly, as if I can make everything better. Or because for a brief time I was her mother. Either way, I’m losing feeling in my legs, and Zechs is suffering diligently beside her.

I’m sure the three of us would make a great fucked-up family portrait.

“Our preliminary data has yet to reveal anything that we did not already know. While it is confirmed there is something possessing Ms. Peacecract, we have not determined what. Duo’s presence did not draw out any visible manifestations, so if this is a spirit or ghost we do not know, either. There is a matter of concern though, which has affected several of us over the last week. I am not certain if it is in lieu with the initial problem we were called for, but it needs to be taken care of nonetheless.”

“You talkin’ ‘bout everyone tryin’ t’get into my pants?” I drawl, and Relena’s fingers clench tighter on the blanket.

“Among other things. I believe the increased volatile behaviour towards you is also a factor of this.”

“Okay, so all’ve ya tryin’ to kick the shit outta me, that’s this… thing’s fault?”

Heero nods, and I glance over at Wufei. He’s staring at his feet, and I don’t blame him. He was the first to attack me, and the first to… well…

How did Heero put it? _Seduce violently._

Cathy’s tightening her hold on my arm, as is Relena.

“We can no longer rely on the cameras, so those will be taken down tomorrow,” Heero continues, and Quatre furrows his brow.

“Why? Did they not work the way you thought they would?”

Heero glares at the blond, who wilts under his look. I roll my eyes, my lips twitching. Man, didn’t he know by now never to suggest Heero did something wrong?

“No, data transmission was perfect until Duo overloaded every single camcorder in the building. Until each camera can be repaired, we will have to rely on other methods.”

“As long as I don’t have to be bait again, I don’t care,” I mutter, and Trowa puffs out a laugh.

* * *

 

I don’t end up being bait, for once. I think it has more to do with the fact that I’m stuck in bed for the time being, and less with Heero feeling compassionate about my injuries. It’s hard to get any sleep, what with my room being turned into the base. Heero brought his laptop in, setting up shop between the beds. Wufei sleeps in the other bed on occasion, though he’s mostly running errands for Heero. The ghost hunt continues, regardless of my absence in it.

Sally also continues to torture me to perfect health. When I’m able to get myself in and out of bed on my own, Heero puts me back to work.

“So far no trace of this presence has been found. Are you… willing to help draw it out?”

“I don’t think it’ll work,” I admit. “It _knew_ me.”

“Elaborate.”

Damn, I hate it when he asks that. I also hate that I’m never able to deny him.

“When Zechs was… well… yeah. Before, he was talking to me. But it wasn’t him.”

“He mentioned much of the same to me, though he was unable to recall the words being said.”

“Yeah, don’t blame him f’r that,” I mutter, “I was makin’ sure he stayed off’ve me long ‘nuff to get ‘way.”

“The fact that it is willing to talk to you could be to our benefit.”

“I don’t think it’ll comply as easily again,” I point out. “If it knows I want to find it, find what it is… it’s going to hide.”

“Or brag, or boast. This is a great possibility I am unwilling to let pass.”

With those parting words, I find myself knocking on the door to Relena’s bedroom.

“Duo! Feeling better, I hope?” she greets, hugging me gently. I pat her back, stepping away and looking over her. She’s exhausted, and I feel my stomach churning.

We’re taking too long.

“I want to try to talk to whatever’s inside of you.”

A shadow crosses over her eyes, and she lets her head dip down a little.

“I… I’ve been hearing it, Duo. I can hear her talking inside my head.”

“What does she tell you?” I whisper, urging her to open up. Man, I don’t think I’d be here if Heero already knew this. Or… did he know, and knew she wouldn’t talk about it to anyone else?

That guy fuckin’ pisses me off, either way.

“She says that I… that I _like_ what’s happening to everyone. That I’m the reason you’re hurt, and that I _wanted_ you hurt. She—she’s blaming me for being too weak…”

“She’s wrong,” I assure her, my hand resting on her shoulder. I squeeze gently, pulling her to me. Her arms wrap around me tight, and I ignore the pain as I cradle her head to my neck. “If you wanted all of this to happen, I’m sure it’d be a lot worse. You’re doing your best. You did the right thing, having us come to help. We’re _going_ to help you.”

“It’s too late, it’s too late,” she wails, “it’s too late!”

I feel it, then. The familiar, tantalizing, _addicting_ power that haunts my dreams, haunts my existence. I feel it, and I push her away, staring at my—Serena’s daughter.

“Oh,” I breathe, unable to voice the curses rising in my throat. Though, it could be bile, they both would be appropriate. The power fades, but the residue lingers on my senses.

“It’s never too late,” I hiss, in case it can hear me. “Not with Solo’s protégé.”

* * *

 

“Fuck, fuck, _fucking damn it all to the seventh level of Hell!_ ” I slam the door to the new base open, the wall rattling from the impact. Heero looks up sharply, his eyes cool and calm. Trowa’s head snaps up, as does Cathy’s. Quatre jumps about a foot into the air, dropping the phone in his hand. Sally shrieks a little, caught off guard.

“Duo? What’s—”

“I need a fucking drink!” I snarl, pacing the floor. I want to throw myself on the bed, onto the floor, out the window, really. But I can’t. I can’t sit still, not when that… that fucking thing is in _my_ daughter!

“Explain, Maxwell!” Heero snaps, and I spin to face him, glaring.

“Did you know, Yuy?” I hiss, my eyes narrowing. “Did you fucking know what was inside of her? Living in her, controlling her, _corrupting her?_ ”

“Duo!” Cathy’s trying to break into my rant, but I ignore her.

“I do not. Please, enlighten me.” His voice is cold, flat, toneless. Mine matches his. I can feel my emotions shutting down, the anger bleeding away. When I speak again, it feels like I’m talking once again to Spineless, explaining why keeping cocaine in the front display is a fucking stupid idea.

“A demon, Yuy. A god damn _fucking_ demon. But it’s not possessing her. Oh, no. No, that would be simple, that would be _detectable_ , easy to fix. No, she’s _hosting_ a demon. Which means that someone here is withholding information. Someone isn’t telling the truth. Someone’s _lying_ to me!”

Gold sparks fly across my vision as a hand smacks my cheek, burning against my skin. Cathy’s in front of me, her chest heaving and her hand still shining with golden light.

“Are you paying attention to me?” she asks, and I nod, eyes wide. She lowers her hand, the gold fading back into her skin.

“Heero didn’t know. Wufei didn’t know. I didn’t know. _You_ didn’t know. Don’t start throwing around accusations before we get the facts. Get a grip on yourself, Duo Maxwell, because I’m not putting up with your shit.”

I meekly nod, and satisfied, she moves back to sit on the bed. Most of the room is staring between me and her, unsure of what happened.

“Okay… sorry,” I mumble, leaning against the wall. “But there’s still an issue with Relena and her parasite.”

“And we’ll figure it out. The _right_ way. Not your way.”

“My way’s faster,” I grumble, and she narrows her gaze, gold sparking against her skin again.

“Your way is what killed your brother.”

I flinch, dropping my eyes to the ground.

“I’ll perform an exam on Relena, with Duo’s help. If we don’t get results, I’ll… figure something out.”

Cathy grabs my wrist, pulling me from the room and back down the hall. I don’t resist. I can’t.

Not after that.

* * *

 

“Just lay down, and I’ll begin,” Cathy says, and Relena lies back on the bed, her fingers clenched in the thin gown she’s wearing. I’m on the left side of the bed, and Sally’s at the foot. I kneel next to her, running my fingers through the long blonde hair.

“This isn’t going to hurt at all,” I assure her, examining the glimpses of scalp I can see between the strands. I continue to part her hair, checking each inch of skin to make sure it’s clear. Cathy’s working on her upper body, and Sally’s starting at her feet. Relena lies there, trembling slightly as six pair of hands relentlessly examine each inch of her. By the time we get through, disappointment is thick in the air.

“Nothing visible on the skin,” Cathy tells Heero back in the base room. He doesn’t say anything, yet I know what he wants.

“It means that it has to be at least a Third tier demon,” I elaborate. “First tiers are easy to spot; they disfigure their host, and not in a good way. Second tier demons leave a visible mark on the surface of their host, as proof of ownership.”

“Third tier demons must leave a physical mark as well,” I add on, “but they are able to do it either on the surface, or on more delicate flesh, such as organs. They also are capable of carving their marks into bone.”

“So I need to get her to an X-ray machine, and an MRI,” Cathy finishes, and Sally steps up.

“I’m trained to use both, so there will be no danger from continuing the exam.”

Heero nods his permission, and I turn and leave quickly.

I’m not ready to talk about Solo, not yet. And I know that’s _exactly_ what Heero’s waiting for.

The X-ray comes back negative for anything, as does the MRI. We extend it to a CT-scan, and no markings appear on the brain tissue.

“I’m telling you, if I could just give it a try—” I shout, but Cathy cuts me off, her voice matching mine in volume.

“And I told you, no! It was one of the rules put down after Solo died, and I’m not going to have you go ruining ten years of work!”

“So she should die, have her life ruined, because you’re afraid of them?!” I scream, slamming my hand into the wall. It resists my blow, but doesn’t dull my anger. “For once, you’re going to follow the rules?! What happened to the woman who married a fucking killer, huh? Where’s the woman who gave birth to a psychopath’s child?!”

“Don’t talk to me that way!” she’s screaming back. “You got yourself into this situation, you have to live with the results! I’m not going to let you rip out her soul on a whim!”

“I wasn’t going to do that,” I say, the fight leaving me. I take a step back, and watch as Cathy’s face crumbles. The air between us is thick, the ever-present barrier of Solo growing too large for me to handle.

“I wasn’t going to hurt her.”

“Duo—”

I don’t stay to listen. I can’t. I can’t deal with her, not now.

Not ever.

“Go home, Catherine. Go home to your children.”

I hear her start to cry, but I can’t bring myself to care.

If I care, I might change my mind; as I told the demon, I’m my brother’s protégé.


	9. Case 6, Part 3

I pound on her door, ignoring the blinking red light from the camera recording from several feet away down the hall. There’s no time - never enough time - to be sneaky. There’s no time to hide my tracks, to make sure that this goes unnoticed. It won’t matter anyway.

“Duo?!” Relena gasps as she sees me. I know I’m not looking my best, my sleeves stained with blood and the front of my shirt splattered with specks of it as well, but there wasn’t time to clean up first.

“Come with me,” I ask her - beg, more like - the urgency clear in my tone. “Please, Relena. We don’t have time.”

To my surprise, and my relief, she doesn’t argue. She doesn’t ask why, or what I want to do with her. Instead, she steps out of her room, closing the door firmly behind her. Trust and love shine in her eyes as she nods at me, giving her answer.

“Okay.”

* * *

“What were you thinking?!” Cathy screams, Trowa having to visibly restrain her from throwing herself at me. I’m propped up slightly in one of the beds at the base, Sally silently putting an IV line in my arm. Relena’s lying on the other bed, her pale white face almost blending in with the sheets. Her golden hair is sprawled across the pillow, and her eyes remain closed through the noise.

“I saved her life,” I answer, my voice still hoarse from screaming. “I saved all of our lives.”

“You recklessly went and endangered her! What if you had failed? What if you’d killed her like you did my husband?!”

I don’t let myself flinch at the words, though they rip through me like a bullet. My words as I answer her are toneless, my voice as cold and flat as it can be. It’s like I’m back at the drug den, talking to an enraged addict instead of my sister-in-law.

“Then she would have died. But she didn’t. Get over it.”

“Cathy,” Trowa says softly, pulling at her arm. “Just go. Leave him alone.”

“No!” she snarls, yanking her arm free from his. “Not until he understands.”

“I understand,” I tell her. Trowa’s shaking his head at me sharply, but I ignore him. Sally’s hands tremble as they wrap my hands in gauzy bandage, but I don’t feel any pity for her. She shouldn’t have come here. We didn’t need her.

“I understand completely. Do you think I am ignorant of the power that ritual holds? Do you think I am unaware of what the chances of success were? I know better than anyone, dead or alive, Catherine Bloom. After all,” I add coldly, “that is the ritual I created and used for _your husband_.”

This time, when Trowa pulls her from the room, she doesn’t fight me. Instead, her eyes meet mine. I don’t avert them, even as she asks me one last question.

“How many more people need to die before you learn better?”

* * *

I ignore everyone as they talk around me, discussing the case and the events that have happened so far. I can hear Heero’s low, mellow voice blending with Wufei’s angry, sharp one. Occasionally, I even hear Quatre’s higher, optimistic tones overtake the others. I don’t hear Trowa or Cathy, but that’s because they aren’t here.

Relena still lies silently in the bed next to mine, as she has been since the ritual ended. I’m lying on my side, taking in her too-pale skin and shallow breathing. She’s officially in a coma, but I know it’ll only be a few days before she’ll be up and about again. I haven’t told them, but it doesn’t matter. They wouldn’t believe me at this point anyway.

I can’t hear what the others are talking about, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters at this point. Right now, I’m barely holding myself together. While they’ve been quick to point the finger and blame me for what happened to Relena, no one’s given enough of a shit to ask how I’m faring. No one’s bothered checking to see if the fragile pieces of my mind and soul survived the trauma I put them through to save her life.

Relena will, though, when she wakes. She knows exactly what I did to fix her.

Sally occasionally comes over and checks my vitals, making sure that I’m not about to drop dead on her. I get the distinct impression that she wouldn’t care much if I did.

Some distant part of me realizes I’m being overly melodramatic, not to mention depressed. It’s a side-effect of tearing my inner self into pieces in order to tear someone else’s out, but no one knows that except me - and now Relena, since she’s the one I had to ‘tear’ into. I haven’t told anyone, since no one’s asked. Instead, I watch Relena breathe, hoping that it was worth it.

If she rejects me too, there’s nothing else for me here.

* * *

Trowa stops by one afternoon, a plate of food in his hand. My stomach twists uncomfortably at the smell, and I fight the urge to vomit.

“You need to eat,” he tells me, and I ignore him. He doesn’t leave though, instead annoying me even further by taking a seat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking around his weight and sliding me a little bit towards him. I roll onto my back at the motion, staring blankly at the ceiling.

In the corner of my eye, I watch him frown lightly - barely even noticeable except for a twitch down at the corner of his mouth. His hand reaches out, brushing back my bangs as his fingers trail along my skin. I know he’s probably reading my mind, but I can’t bring myself to care enough. He exhales sharply, the plate clattering to the floor as his body stiffens against his will.

He jerks his hand away abruptly, green eyes staring at me intently. I don’t look at him, instead tracing patterns on the stucco ceiling.

He stands up and strides out of the room, leaving me to my own machinations.

* * *

“—you never bothered to ask! You just ignored him and focused on your own fucking problems!”

I almost want to snort at hearing Trowa swearing, let alone yelling. Who knew he had it in him.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Trowa! I’m your sister, don’t forget that!” I hear Cathy snap back harshly, surprising me.

“Does it matter who you are? You’re letting him suffer because you’re mad at him not telling you what he was going to do. I thought he was your brother, Cathy. I thought that you cared about your family?”

The bitter note in his tone is curious. Why is he so upset about this?

Cathy shoves the door open, her words dying as she looks at me. I don’t look back, trying to find the constellations I created earlier in the ceiling. I’m pretty sure the one-eyed skull’s more towards the left…

“Oh my god, Duo…” Cathy breathes, and she steps across the room to kneel at my bedside. I feel her hands brush my face, her fingers pressing against my cheek until the ceiling is no longer in sight, and tear-rimmed eyes examine my own.

“Trowa!” Cathy snaps. I see him straighten behind her, his features blurry and distorted to me. “Go get Sally and Wufei immediately, and then go grab my bag from the bedroom. Also, send Heero this way if you happen to see him.”

Trowa leaves the room, and I’m left alone with her again.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers to me gently, her face shifting out of sight. I feel the bed dipping as she climbs over me, straddling my waist. I would have cracked a joke about it, probably said something perverted to get her to blush, but I can’t bring myself to even move my lips.

Her hands slam against my chest painfully, golden-white light flaring from under her palms. I tilt my head back, unable to withhold the cry of pain. It sears through me, my nerves lighting up as my body automatically tries to fight back.

Her own cry mixes with mine, purple tendrils trailing from my chest and wrapping around her arms. She’s shaking, but doesn’t lift her hands as the white glows brighter still, spreading across the span of my chest as if it were blood. My cry rises to a scream, masking the sound of the door banging open and the rushing of feet.

“What are you—” Wufei’s asking, but another flow of pain cuts him off as I let out another scream. He backs up, horror covering his face.

Seconds later, Trowa is pushing him aside, a bag landing on the bed next to us. Cathy, panting, with sweat dripping down her cheeks, yanks one of her hands off of me. The white light blinds me for a moment, my head falling to the side and my eyes squeezing closed. I take the reprieve to catch my breath, gasps coming sharp and shallow. It’s not long enough, though, and it’s like it barely ends before it begins again, this time a golden trinket clutched in one of her hands.

I don’t know how long this goes on. It could have been only another minute, or several years. Time doesn’t matter. Instead, all of my attention is focusing on fighting off the pain. The rolling waves of white and gold flooding my senses, the ebbing and surging that fills my entire being. My mind feels like it’s shattering, my body coming apart from the inside out. At the same moment I feel like it’s going to kill me the white-gold light blinding my vision shatters into a swirl of purple darkness, and I find myself sinking, the pain washing away as I surface in a sea of starlight.

Serena’s standing on a rippling pool of darkness, the stars surrounding us not reflecting on the surface. Her somber eyes shine eerily in the twilight, and her hands are folded across her stomach. She looks calm, peaceful even.

I don’t move towards her, I don’t need to. She walks towards me, each step forming ripples that flow away out of sight. Her hands reach out, gently coming to rest on each shoulder. She pulls me to her, wrapping me in a cold embrace.

“Oh, Duo. You silly child,” she chides, though her voice isn’t scolding. “What did you do?”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I wanted to help her. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“But at what cost? You hurt yourself more than you could have ever hurt Relena.”

I lean back, looking into her vibrant blue eyes. They’re not condemning, as Cathy’s are, or disgusted like Wufei’s had been. They’re understanding, accepting, _knowing_.

“It’s time to go back. They’re waiting for you.”

Her words work better than a glass of ice water across my face. I take a step back, shaking my head. My hair is never braided in here with Serena, but instead shimmering around me in waves of brown. It obscures my vision for but a moment as I deny her words.

“No. There’s no one waiting. There’s no one there.”

“Yes there is. You have so many friends, Duo,” she urges, her hands curling around my waist. She holds me to her as I bury my face into her shoulder, her hands sliding up to press me even closer. “There are so many people hoping you will come back to them. Your sister is working so hard right now, she is bleeding over you, giving part of her life to you. Don’t shun her, don’t condemn her for her short-sightedness. One day, she will understand why you did it. For now, embrace her love. Life is so short, after all.”

“Will I ever see the gates of Heaven?” I ask her suddenly, but she only backs up as I sink back into the darkness below. “Will I?”

I don’t hear her answer.

* * *

“Oh thank god,” I hear someone exclaim as I gasp, my eyes flying open. I don’t waste a moment in turning to the side, my stomach attempting to empty the contents that aren’t in there. Someone’s hand is against my back, rubbing as a small amount of stomach acid makes its way up my throat and into my mouth.

“Easy there, take it slow. You’re okay,” a low, deep voice urges, pressing a cold cloth against my mouth. I take it with shaking hands, wiping messily at my face.

“How are you feeling?” another voice asks to my right. I think it might be the owner of the hand rubbing at the base of my neck.

“Like I fuckin’ got hit by a semi, then it decided it didn’t do a good ‘nuff job th’firs’ time,” I mumble thickly. A short, relieved burst of laughter comes from my left, and a hand ruffles my bangs.

“He’ll be okay,” a woman’s voice answers. A voice I could recognize anywhere, anytime.

“’Lena?” I ask, wanting to make sure I’m not hallucinating. A small titter reaches my ears, a hand swiping at my cheek. It’s then that I realize she’s also holding a cloth, too.

“In the flesh. I hear you did a fantastic job at pissing everyone off. Did it… did it work?”

I look up into eyes so much like Serena’s, and like her mother she isn’t blaming me for what I did to her. Instead, she understands. I can see it.

“It worked. You’re _you_ again.” The smile she gives me makes it worth the pain I went through to get her that way. I close my eyes again, leaning into her touch, but only for a moment.

“…Cathy?” I suddenly ask, not having heard her. Heero and Trowa back away, letting me sit up straight. Looking behind me reveals her lying across my bed with closed eyes.

“She passed out, but she’s just asleep. She exerted a lot of power doing… whatever it is she did. I’m not sure what was happening, but it was…” Trowa trails off, unable to explain what it is he saw.

“Painful?” I help, and he winces.

“No. Bright. It was like a battle of light and dark. She was pushing gold and white lights into you, and you were trying to strangle her to death with purple and black ones.”

Hands are suddenly grasping my arms as my vision tilts - or is it me? - as nausea overtakes me again.

“Oh god, oh god,” I groan, tilting forward as my world spins again, “please tell me I didn’t hurt her…”

“What was it?” Heero asks, but I shake my head.

“Later,” Relena snaps, her arms pulling me up off the bed. I lean on her, my legs shaking horribly. Whether it is from the lack of use or the horror filling me, I’m not sure. She’s holding me upright though, her slender body hiding the strength within her. “I’m going to take him elsewhere to rest, somewhere it is quiet and he can recover. When he is better, you may question him. Until then,” she glares at my boss angrily, her voice dropping into a low hiss, “leave. My. Mother. Alone.”

* * *

It takes three days before Relena decides she’s done being angry at the others. I don’t understand her anger - they didn’t do anything wrong, I did - but her gentle heart can only hold out for so long before her mother’s kindness overthrows it. For reasons unknown to me, she won’t let Heero or Wufei speak to me yet.

Instead, I find myself waking up to Trowa brushing my hair.

It’s odd. I don’t allow people to touch my hair on principle (too many times has someone threatened to cut it), but the soothing, repetitive motions mixed with my still-sleep-fogged brain make my ascent to alertness slow, my thoughts swimming through half-condensed jello and trying to find a way to break the surface.

“Good afternoon,” he says quietly, his fingers brushing across my scalp probably letting him access my thoughts and discover the pounding headache residing there. He sets the brush aside, his hands resting on my shoulders and turning me gently to the side. With a strange, odd deftness, his fingers separate and twine my hair together, the plait forming in mere moments before being tied off and left to rest along the bed. I roll again onto my back, looking up at him confused.

“The headache is superficial, it should be gone within the next day or so as your core replenishes; you know this better than I would,” he tells me, his fingers still brushing some of the loose strands framing my face. It’s an odd gesture - one I wouldn’t associate with the quiet man who shares blood with my brother’s wife - but, funnily enough, not unwelcome.

Why? I wonder, and I can see the question flash through his eyes as he takes it from my skin.

“Because you did what you felt was best,” he answers, confirming that my thoughts are not private right now. “I will not judge you based on the actions you took. You know your own limits better than anyone. You know the consequences firsthand. If you felt that the risk was less than the result, who am I to berate you?”

A better man than I, I muse, but he shakes his head again.

“I am many things, but a ‘good man’ is not one of them. I will leave you to rest before your daughter chases me off again. She’s very protective of you, keep that in mind when you question your own actions.”

…Thank you. I see gratitude flash in his normally empty eyes, before he stands and takes his brush once again in hand.

“Is there anything you would like to pass along to the others?”

“I wouldn’t blame them for hating me. If you tell them that, I…”

“I very much doubt hate is the emotion I would ascribe to them. But I will relay it. Rest now, you look like shit.”

“Thanks, bud. Thanks.”

I can’t feel insulted though. His parting words did their magic. I can’t help the genuine, if not small, smile that spreads across my face. It remains there even as Relena steps into the room with a plate of food, a hand on her hip as she catches me trying to sit up again on my own.

“You are the worst patient anyone could have,” she scolds, pushing a pillow against my back to help support me. I don’t fight as she feeds me, knowing that my body doesn’t have the strength needed to hold the utensils myself.

I haven’t been this weak since Solo’s death. I’d forgotten how fucking annoying it is to be reduced to this.

“That Barton boy is so polite. He offered to watch over you while I went to make you lunch. He cares about you, a lot,” Relena’s saying, but I disagree.

“He doesn’t like me, he only cares because his sister does.”

“Oh please,” she rebukes, “do you think I’m stupid? I’ve seen you two going at it in my hallways, not to mention that I was peeking in here and watching him brush your hair. I can’t even do that without you trying to fight me, and you didn’t even attempt to pull away. What you need to do is get over your martyr complex and realize that we love you. All of us, even that asshole of a boss you have.”

“What’s your beef with Hee-chan?” I finally ask, and she frowns, twirling a strand of hair around her finger nervously.

“Well, there might have been an argument recently, and some words were said that shouldn’t have been, and then I might have accidentally thrown something at him…”

I stare at her, bewildered, not understanding.

“He tried to force his way in here and take you! He was going to leave you over at Mr. Chang’s house until you ‘recovered’ and then put you back to work. I didn’t agree with him. You need time to rest and be away from all that stuff. He doesn’t understand what happened, what it took to heal me.”

“And he never will,” I say firmly. “No one will.”

“Of course,” Relena agrees. “I haven’t said a word. I will take it to my grave.”

“I know,” I murmur, leaning back into the pillows. “Because you are your mother’s daughter.”

* * *

It was a week before Relena deemed me fit enough to leave her ever-watchful gaze. The only visitors she allowed to see me during that time were my sister, Trowa, and Quatre. Now I’m standing under my own willpower, a bag slung over my shoulder and an arm wrapped around Serena’s daughter, giving her a hug farewell.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she tells me, pulling back to look at me with bright eyes. I quirk a grin, my neatly braided hair sliding down to drape in front of me as I tilt my head.

“Who, me? I’d be careful, I might end up movin’ in.”

“That wouldn’t bother me at all!” Relena assures, and I grimace.

“Too opulent for me. I’ll stick to my dumpy dives, thanks.”

Relena laughs, giving me a little shove before moving past me to hug Trowa and Quatre as well. When she looks over at Heero, her gaze hardens.

“You take care of him, understand?” she warns, and Heero gives a single nod. Wufei doesn’t look at any of us; he keeps his nose buried in a book I’m pretty sure he stole from my bag. I can’t whine about it though, I’ve stolen most of his recently.

“Call me!” Relena calls out as a last farewell, and without looking back I lift my hand in return.

Nothing is said between the five of us as we walk to the cars parked at the foot of the stone staircase, the work van packed and ready to go already. I didn’t get a chance to help clean up the base, which was mainly Relena’s fault.

I meet Trowa’s eyes, giving a nod of acknowledgement. He gives one back, sliding into the driver’s seat of the small two-door car in front of ours. Quatre gets into the passenger seat, leaning out the window to look at us.

“Take care, guys!”

“Yeah, whatever,” I mumble, but he doesn’t hear me over the sound of the engine revving to life and the crunching of gravel under the tires. I sigh, opening the back door to the van and climbing in. Heero is driving this time, with Wufei in the seat next to him. It’s quiet, and not in the comfortable silence-y way.

“Look,” I finally break, leaning into my seat tiredly, “I get it. I don’t blame you guys for bein’ mad at me, or even hatin’ me at this point.”

They don’t respond, but that’s not unusual. I can tell I have their interests, though, as Heero’s focusing much too hard on the road and Wufei’s eyes are watching me in the side mirror.

“What I did was stupid, reckless, and downright dangerous. But,” I add in, meeting Wufei’s gaze in the reflective glass, “it was necessary.”

“I know,” Wufei mutters, averting his gaze. “I understand that.”

“Then why are you still mad at me?” I shout, slamming my hand down on the cushion next to me. Heero, as a testament to his nerves of steel, doesn’t even flinch at the noise.

“Why does it always have to be you?” Wufei finally snaps, turning around in the seat. “Why when shit like this happens are you the one who has to risk your wellbeing to fix it? Why can’t you simply ask for help? I feel so fucking useless sitting on the sidelines, watching you try to get yourself killed. I thought we were a fucking team, Duo. The three of us. But the moment anything happens, you run off on your own and try to fix it yourself.”

My mouth opens as if to respond, but nothing comes out. What is there to say to that? I can’t say it’s not true - Lord knows I’ve done it enough times now to prove Wufei’s point - but that’s not it at all. It’s just—

“We aren’t your brother,” Heero adds in, his voice quiet.

“You can ask us to help, even if we can’t know everything that is happening,” Wufei continues, his eyes softening. “I understand there’s a lot you don’t wish to share, that there’s a lot that we cannot know or understand. But that doesn’t mean that we’re unable to be there to do what we can.”

“’M sorry,” I mumble, looking down at my worn sneakers. I can see parts of my sock through the top of one of them, alerting me that it might be time to find a new pair. Shaking my head to stop my wandering mind, I speak a little louder, a little clearer. “I… I’ll try. I haven’t had’ta ask since he died. I can’t promise I’ll do it, but I promise I’ll try.”

“I’ll be more aware as well,” Heero adds in, a look crossing his face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the other man’s uncomfortable; either that or he really needs to pee. “I will offer assistance in the absence of your request.”

“Ditto,” Wufei adds in, and I crack a smirk at that.

“Man, Wuffles, I think I’m corruptin’ ya. Firs’ you’re cussin’ up a storm, an’ now you’re stealin’ my lingo. Soon you’ll be droppin’ sounds an’ slurring. Then we’ll really be homies!”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Wufei grumbles, and I lean back, the atmosphere in the car much lighter than when we got in.

I might not have fucked things up after all, just… bent them a little.

* * *

“Ahh man, feels good to be back!” I cry out, tossing my bag down on the sofa next to my desk. I rest my hands on my hips, taking in an exaggeratingly deep breath and letting it out loudly.

“Can you smell that disgustingly polluted city air? So refreshing!”

“You’re insane, Maxwell,” Wufei grunts, setting his bag down next to mine and heading to his office. I don’t know quite what he does each time we come back from a case, but it usually entails at least three hours in his little office, four cups of tea being consumed, and only then does he deem it okay to be out in the main area.

“No, I’m just fuckin’ sick of breathin’ all that rich-ass air. I don’t know how they stand it. It’s so….”

“Clean, refreshing, not going to give you lung cancer by the time you’re thirty?” he calls out from the other room, and I shake my head, even though the effect’s lost on him.

“No, suffocating!”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

“That’s the point!” I shout back, sitting down in my spinning chair and turning my computer on. It’s only a matter of minutes before Heero starts giving me shit to type in, and the rest of my week is going to be filing notes and organizing said notes into useable data.

Just another day in the job of Secretary for an Anally-Retentive Boss.

As predicted, two minutes after I boot up my computer and empty all my extra water bottles into Betty’s belly Heero stalks out of his office, neatly placing a four-inch stack of papers next to my coffee cup before turning around and heading back into his cave. The single stack of papers is a battle I won after months of Heero leaving them in ‘organized’ piles on my desk. It doesn’t matter what order he decides on, I always file them differently. After a week of arguing, two mugs chucked and a small fire, he started leaving them in the single pile. It’s a victory I can’t help but feel smug about.

I’m working through the middle of the pile when Wufei emerges from his office, his own pile of paper awaiting my expertise. He sets it next to Heero’s, not even bothering to grace me with a greeting - which is normal after five o’clock - before vanishing again. I give up trying to be productive around an hour later, and shortly after that Wufei leaves for the night, followed closely by Heero. It’s then that I finally shut down my computer, turn off the lights, and then curl up on the sofa to get some sleep.

I’m not sure if I’m ready to go back to Trowa’s house yet. Not while Cathy’s still there.

* * *

A knock on the office door has me jolting to the side, remembering too late that I’m on a couch, not a bed. I hit the floor, disoriented before another knock reminds me why I woke up in the first place.

I quickly make my way near the front door, sliding the curtain over just a hair to peek at the space in front.

Well, that’s interesting.

I twist the lock, turning the handle and letting the door fall open to reveal my brother-in-law.

“Yo,” I greet halfheartedly, stepping back to let him come in from the storm outside. I hand him the blanket I’d been using to try to dry off, though most of it’s probably soaked into the rug already.

“So…” I trail off uncertainly, a little nervous. I mean, I’m not _obligated_ to go back to his place. He’s not expecting me all the time. I can stay wherever the hell I want. So this strange, uneasy feeling of guilt welling up in my stomach shouldn’t _be_ there.

“Cathy went back to her family,” he tells me, taking a seat - shit, he’s still wet! - and propping his feet up on the small coffee table. I take a seat on the opposite sofa, my legs jittering slightly as I try to wrap my tired brain around why he’s here.

“You didn’t come home,” he states. I blink, unsure of what he means.

“I don’t have a home.”

“You can if you want one,” he intones, sliding his feet off the table and planting them firmly on the floor. He leans forward, his arms resting against his thighs and his hands interlinking between them loosely. “My house can be yours for as long as you desire.”

“Why?” I ask weakly, my arms wrapping around my waist defensively on their own accord.

“I’ve already answered that.”

“You know, it’s too fuckin’ early for this shit,” I groan, flopping down sideways. The sofas aren’t meant for stretching out on, being made only for two people at a time, so I find my head brushing the arm as my legs fling over the other arm, catching under the knee and kicking the small lamp off the side table.

“You have no place to truly escape from everything, to be the person you are instead of the person you think others want you to be. You can be that inside my house. Even if I have to send my sister away, I’ll keep it that safe haven for you.”

“Why do you care so much? I’m just a fuckin’ kid to you,” I snarl, the guilt turning to anger.

“You stopped being a child ten years ago when your brother tried to kill you.”

I feel my breath hitch, feel my hand spasm for something to hold on to. Trowa’s hand slips into mine, his face hovering inches above my own. I can feel his breath against my skin, hot and damp, stealing mine away.

“I can’t understand everything just from touching you. I can see things, but they mean nothing unless you explain them to me,” he comments unexpectedly. “When you force your thoughts against mine, I can understand what you want, what you’re trying to tell me, or what you try to show me. The images that keep playing as you touch me,” he squeezes my hand, “they are muted, distorted, flashing by too fast to acknowledge.”

“What do you want from me?” I ask him hoarsely. He leans down suddenly, his lips gently brushing against mine.

“Everything, nothing, what you want to give me, and what you wish to hide. I just… I don’t know. I don’t understand it. I can’t help but…” I can see the frustration in his eyes, the frustration that lines the ridges of his face, down to the tightening of his lips and the hand twisted with mine.

“I understand,” I murmur, and it’s true. My fascination with him, with this stranger who is as helpful and kind as he is impeding and cruel, is unfounded. It shouldn’t exist, it shouldn’t be happening.

But that doesn’t stop me from leaning up to capture his mouth. It doesn’t stop my free hand from cupping his face, sliding into his hair to pull him closer. It doesn’t make me push him away as he climbs over me on the sofa, his damp clothes sharing water with mine.

It doesn’t make me lean away from the hand sliding up my shirt, brushing against the soft skin of my stomach, grazing the sensitive skin of my chest and sides. It doesn’t make me flinch away from the mouth moving down my jaw, pushing my head up and latching onto the tender piece of skin covering my erratic pulse.

It doesn’t make me ignore the urge to explore every inch of skin I can reach from this position. It doesn’t stop the gasps, moans, and curses slipping out of my unoccupied mouth. It doesn’t stop our clothes from piling onto the floor, from my hips being raised, or from both of us being consumed by pleasure.

It doesn’t make me ask him to stop. It doesn’t make him stop.

As he lies on top of me, spent and sated, I stare blankly at the ceiling, trying to force my thoughts to form something coherent. As I let my head loll to the side, my eyes distantly registering the surroundings, I can’t stop the words from slipping out of my mouth.

“We just fucked on my boss’ couch.”

Trowa’s laughter fills the air, soon mixing with my own.

* * *

Trowa kindly helps me clean up the office before dragging me back to his house - my house? Our house? - and making me something to eat. I doubt it’s edible, and I don’t really get the chance to find out.

Yeah, ‘nuff said.

The sun is starting to rise when I finally fall asleep, Trowa’s arm wrapped around my waist and his face buried in my hair.

I can’t say that my sleep is as wonderful as what preceded it. Images of circles, blood, screams, and dark, dark glowing runes fill them. Each time I wake up gasping, crying out for my brother, Trowa’s there to whisper in my ear. He’s there to stroke my back, comforting me and helping me fall back asleep.

When I fully wake up, he’s not there.

At first, I feel confused - why am I in Trowa’s room? - until last night starts to sink in. After that, I throw my legs over the side of the bed, only feeling woozy for a few breaths before I rise to my feet, pulling the first shirt I can find over my head. I steal a pair of Trowa’s pajama pants, though, as there’s no fucking way in hell I’m trying to get my jeans back on.

My nose leads me to Trowa, once again attempting to cook something on the stove.

“Mornin’,” I greet, yawning before peering under his arm to see what’s burning. “I’m no expert… but is oatmeal supposed t’be black?”

“Shut up and sit down,” he retorts mildly, pointing with the partially-melted spoon to the kitchen table. I obediently take a seat, innocently folding my hands on the table and watching him stir the contents before giving up in a huff, plopping the pot into the sink and turning the water on.

I hit the floor, my eyes locking with Trowa’s as the pot shatters.

Luckily, Trowa’s smart enough to drop as well - even if he wasn’t smart enough to not blow up the damn thing in the first place - as pieces of overheated metal fly across the small room. As the ringing in my ears fade, I can’t stop the laughter from escaping, closing my eyes in the mirth at the situation. Pushing myself to my hands and knees, I examine the collateral.

Burnt oatmeal covers most of the surface space, pieces of metal mixed in with the mess. Water still pours from the faucet, the parts of the pot that couldn’t escape the sink being cooled down even more so. Trowa gets to his feet calmly, though his eyes seem to burn holes into the stove.

“So, should we go get takeout?” I ask, and he sighs lightly, his shoulders slumping a little.

“It appears that is the safest route to take,” he mutters, and I lean against him, patting his arm.

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t your cooking skills that drew me to you.”

I duck as he takes a swing at my head, laughing as I dart into the main room.

Maybe things will be okay.

Maybe.

* * *

“So disregarding the details of the ritual performed in the Peacecraft Manor, the end result was the separation of the demonic presence within Ms. Relena Peacecraft’s body that had latched onto her soul. Our resident expert in demonic possessions and summoning, Duo Maxwell, performed the ritual mentioned to extract the soul and remove it from this plane of existence. Due to clauses listed in previous cases, specific information and details on the process cannot be mentioned as to how this was achieved. Ms. Peacecraft has also been sworn to withhold the information on Mr. Maxwell’s request for privacy.”

Heero reaches over the table, turning the recording device off and leaning back in his chair. I watch him with wary eyes, unsure as to why he wants me present for his recording session. Normally, he’d be interviewing me if he wants me here, but he’s asked no such thing of me this time.

“Is this recording discrete enough to keep you safe?” he asks me, blue eyes watching me intently. I nod, popping open the recorder and pulling the little tape out.

“Yeah. There’s not enough to go off of for any idiot wanting to give it a shot.”

“Is that your motive for never explaining the details?” Heero questions.

“Yeah. I don’t want any more Solos runnin’ ‘round out there, leavin’ more people like me to clean up after them.”

The tension in Heero’s shoulders lessens, and he stands up from his chair.

“You may get back to work. I want you out of the office by seven tonight, no more sleeping over here.”

I flush, waiting for the comment that surely should be coming. But it never does, so I hightail it out of his office before he can consider saying anything about what happened.

What if he didn’t know? Damn, my stalker’s starting to slip up apparently. Not that I’m complaining. No, I’m not complaining.

Yet I can’t help but feel eyes on me the rest of the day, following me back to Trowa’s place.

He’s not there, however, when I step through the front door. His coat and shoes are gone, along with the bag he only takes when he goes to work for Quatre. I sigh, resigned to the fact that it could be days before he shows up from whatever random task he has to do, and kick my shoes off messily. I dig the leftover Chinese out of the fridge, not even bothering to heat it up before taking two bites and dumping the remains in the trash, climbing into bed right after.

It’s odd to be here alone.

* * *

“I thought I made it clear to not sleep here overnight.”

“Nngh,” I groan, pushing my face deeper into the pillow beneath me. I gave up trying to sleep at Trowa’s by midnight, instead making my way to the bar. I must have come to the office after, afraid to stay in the house alone.

“And you’re drunk,” he notes, pulling harshly on the collar of my shirt. It lifts me upright, but also reveals the still-dark bruise Trowa’s mouth left on my neck. I’d managed to hide it yesterday, but today… well. Yeah.

“Where did you get that,” Heero asks quietly, and against my better judgment I answer him.

“Tro.”

Heero drops me suddenly, knocking the air out of my lungs as he storms off to his office, slamming the door behind him. I sit up groggily, staring at the closed door in confusion.

Did I do something wrong?

I don’t have long to dwell on it, as Heero strides out of his office, coat messily thrown on over his work clothes and a set of keys in his left hand. With his right, he grasps my arm firmly, pulling me up onto my feet and forward at the same time. I stumble, the blanket I’m wrapped up in tripping me, and I find myself falling to my knees for a moment. He doesn’t slow down to let me regain my balance, but instead he’s practically dragging me across the carpet until I get my feet under me and am fully upright again.

“What the fuck?” I snarl, but I get no answer.

Heero shoves me into the back of the van, shutting the door forcefully before walking around to the driver’s side. I don’t have time to finish buckling my seatbelt before he pulls away from the curb sharply, putting way too much gas into the act of merging with traffic. I grip the back of the seat tightly, my stomach churning with each swerve of the car.

The house we pull up in front of is vaguely familiar.

Heero manhandles me out of the car, a hand around my wrist preventing me from bolting away from the irate man. He pounds firmly on the door - why can’t I remember how I know it? - until the sound of the bolt sliding and the knob turning gives away that someone is home.

Wufei, pissed and tired, glares at us from the gap in the door.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Heero pushes me forward, Wufei barely able to catch me before Heero’s shoving the door the rest of the way open, letting himself inside while I try to pull away from Wufei enough to catch my balance. The other man just looks confused, and when he glances at me questioningly, I shake my head a little.

Yeah, buddy, I have no fucking clue what’s going on. I tug the blanket up a little higher, uncomfortable at the looks they’re giving me. I look like I just rolled out of bed – which I did – and definitely out of place in Wufei’s pristine living room.

“Chang. From now on he’ll be staying with you. It might be for a short while, it might be longer. Right now I do not know.”

“Wait a minute—” I cut in, anger building in my chest. Who the fuck does he think he is?

“As for you,” he interrupts, focusing the full force of his glare on me. I pause, flinching back slightly as he strides towards me.

“You are suspended from work until further notice. I will be speaking with Winner regarding Barton. Until then I don’t want to see you. Understood?”

“No, not fuckin’ understood!” I shout, my hands clenching into fists. “What the fuck is your problem?!”

“What happened? What did Barton do?” Wufei asks, but we both ignore him for now.

“I’ve ignored much of your behaviour regarding your drinking, your interactions with our clients, and your vigilante actions while actively working in the field. But this,” he gestures at me, “this is where I draw the line.”

“What does it matter to you?” I hiss, pulling the blanket around me tighter. “It’s not your fucking concern, or your fucking business.”

“It is when it can have our client arrested and bring the police to my door. Until this matter is settled you cannot be present in the office in the event that police involvement is no longer avoidable.”

“What happened?” Wufei asks again, and Heero gives an answer I wasn’t expecting.

“Barton raped Duo.”


	10. Case 7, Part 1

“Wait, what?!”

“What?!”

Mine and Wufei’s voices each other as we turn to look at each other in disbelief. Heero doesn’t seem moved, instead crossing his arms and piercing me with his deep blue gaze.

“Trowa Barton, the man you’ve been living with, your _brother-in-law,_ raped you. In _my office_.”

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me, right?” I snarl, my mind finally catching up with what’s happening. I take a step forward, not intimidated by Heero’s stony posture. “Where the fuck did _that_ idea pop up from?”

“Video footage.”

“Well, that fuckin’ _footage_ , which you prob’ly jacked off’ta, would’ve pointed out I fuckin’ _consented_.”

“Consent is for kids old enough to do so,” Heero points out, and I feel Wufei’s arms wrap around my chest, holding me back as I lunge toward Heero, fists curled and outstretched.

“Let me go! Did you hear him?! He called me a fuckin’ _child!”_ I scream, swinging my elbow back hoping to dislodge the man holding me in place. I feel my blow connect, but he holds firm, lifting me up off the ground and pulling me away.

“Heero, back the fuck off, and Duo, just calm down for a moment. I’m sure there’s a reasonable, logical explanation for everything. I’m sure I could see it too, if it wasn’t _four in the goddamn morning_.”

Heero takes a step backward, while I try to get Wufei to let go of me. He doesn’t though, instead clutching me even tighter and backing us both up. My feet are unable to touch the ground, depriving me of the wonderful leverage that could have allowed me the opportunity to strangle my boss to death.

“Look, it’s too damn early for this shit. I finally fell asleep an hour ago and I’m not in the mood. Duo’s not claiming to be raped, and you’re too determined to say he was. We have no goddamn clue what’s really happening. So let’s talk about this later. When it’s light outside. And I’ve had six hours of sleep at least. And breakfast,” Wufei grinds out, walking towards the front door. I can’t see how he manages it, but the door swings inward and Heero is shoved back outside of it. The door slams closed behind him, and then the arms loosen around my chest.

I turn around and punch him in the face.

“Gah!” Wufei cries, clutching a hand to his nose. I see a small trail of red slip between the cracks of his fingers, and I give him my coldest stare.

“I. Am. Not. A. Child.”

“You broke my nose!” he exclaims, bewildered. I turn to pull open the door, hoping to give Heero a matching injury, but the door handle refuses to turn.

“Like fuck I’m letting you out of that door,” Wufei mumbles, turning towards the hallway. “It’s too early for this shit.”

The bedroom door slams behind him, Wufei’s hands never leaving his face.

I scream, punching the wall and kicking it a couple of times before slumping to the floor, glaring at the front door.

_Oh, Heero Yuy,_ I promise silently, _you aren’t getting away with this. Don’t think for a moment I’ll let this go._

It’s as I’m drifting back to sleep, curled up in a ball on the floor, that a curious thought pops into my mind.

_What camera? There’re no cameras in the office…_

* * *

“Get up,” Wufei grumbles, kicking my side lightly as he passes over me. I mumble something into the rug, rolling onto my stomach and wrapping my arms over the top of my head, determined to get back to the dark void I was in before he woke me up.

“I said, get up. I did not give you an invitation to use my floor as you please. So get your ass off of it and sit at the table.”

I raise a hand to flip him off, but he merely grabs it and yanks me upward. I stumble, falling forward and bumping into his solid chest. He pushes me back a little, forcing me to stand upright. I barely get a moment to orient myself - _God, channeling Heero much, Wufei? -_ before he’s tugging me forward, my feet walking on their own accord to avoid face-planting back onto the floor. He shoves me into a chair, the legs rocking back at the force use. I land heavily on all fours, jarring my bones and rattling my nerves.

When Wufei slams a hand in front of me, I’m really not expecting it to be attached to a plate of food.

“Eat, then stay here while I go track down Heero. Then, and only then, will we talk about what the fuck you two were fighting about this morning.”

Meekly, I pick up my fork and stick it into one of the rubbery egg pieces. It barely moves as I lift it apart from its brethren, and as I pop it between my lips, my teeth closing down to crush it and tear it apart, I swear I hear an ominous creak.

Damn, if I’d known the man couldn’t cook I wouldn’t have attempted to eat it.

The moment Wufei steps out through the front door I spring up from the chair, rushing over to the single window in the kitchen. To my surprise, it slides open easily, letting me escape the certain torture that would have awaited me upon their return.

I slide the window shut again, slipping over the fence that separates Wufei’s property from his neighbour’s, and head towards somewhere I hope I won’t be rejected.

If the old fart’s even home right now.

* * *

“What are you doing here?” Howie asks, leaning against the frame of the door. His posture allows no room for me to slip through and into the mobile home, his crossed arms and stern gaze freezing me in place.

“Eh…” I start, unsure of how to begin.

_I finally got laid by the guy who’s been fucking with my mind for the last year, and now everyone else’s lost_ their _minds. Can I crash here until the world fixes itself?_

Yeah, I’m not sure that’ll go over so well.

“Uhm…” I try again, but come up short on words this time as well.

_I just want to borrow a small patch of your floor. Maybe for a few days until the heat dies down and my boss isn’t trying to rip my head off._

“Er…” I give it a third shot, and still draw blank on any explanation that makes sense. Letting my shoulders slump, I give a half-hearted, completely false grin.

“Shit, just come on in. Fuckin’ brat,” he mutters, shuffling back into the black hole he calls a home. I trail after him cautiously, my eyes scanning the darkness for any loose bolts, screws, shards of glass or metal, or live creatures as he cuts a path through the living room and to the kitchen. He pulls two beers from the fridge, tossing one towards me before pushing in the tab of his own can and taking a long swig, dropping heavily into a rickety folding chair that’s definitely seen better days. I lower myself into his only other chair, the legs wobbling dangerously as I settle on it, popping the top to my own can and drinking deeply.

“What the hell did you do this time?” he asks me, the slur lingering behind his words telling me that this isn’t his first beer of the day. I hum absently, taking another swallow of beer It’s three breaths later that I’m setting down the empty can on the table, flicking it lightly with a nail to hear the metal echo ring through the canister.

“I might have done something dumb,” I murmur. “An’ I dunno how t’fix it.”

“Oh really? I thought you were goin’ta tell me somethin’ I _don’t_ know,” he mocks, the playful tone tampered by the alcohol in his blood. Either that or he’s just being more of a dick than usual today.

“How many years have we known each other?” I ask him, tipping the empty can on the table a little to the right, the movements and gestures occupying my attention so that I don’t have to make eye contact with my oldest friend and confidant. Howie snorts in disbelief.

“Did you forget how we met?”

“Well, I might have slept with Cathy’s baby brother,” I admit, smacking the can hard. It flies to the right, crunching against the wall and dropping loudly to the ground. The ringing of metal on metal is the only sound that fills the void my words leave in the room. Howie’s eyes are wide, the drunken haze vanishing from the shock I’ve given his system.

“Well, shit. And let me guess, someone found out and judged the book by the cover, am I right?”

“Yeah.” My answer is short, clipped, and to the point.

I royally fucked up. ‘Nuff said.

“You’re a fucking moron,” Howie groans, shoving his chair back. To my surprise, it doesn’t collapse into a heap of scrap metal at the movement. Howie motions for me to stand with one hand, while the other pulls a jacket off the back of the chair.

“Come on, let’s go clean up this mess before it festers.”

“Wait—” I start, but he cuts his hand through the air, stopping my argument before it even starts.

“No. No more hiding, Duo. No more skirting the boundaries of lies and truth. You’ll have to explain this all eventually. You can’t hide forever behind your happy-go-lucky masquerade.”

I silently follow the older man, dread dancing with the beer in my gut.

_This isn’t going to end well._

* * *

If I thought I was going to die before I snuck out of Wufei’s house, it’s nothing compared to the tension filling the room as I step back through the front door, Howie towering behind me and blocking my retreat.

“Where did you go, Maxwell?” Wufei asks, way too calmly for my tastes. Heero’s messy shock of hair is visible over the back of one of the loveseats, his face turned away from all of us. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s sulking.

“I asked you to stay and finish your breakfast, the breakfast I made for you in my kitchen, using my own food while you slept on my floor.”

I can’t help but wonder if it’s too late to reconsider coming back. Howie seems to read my intent, his hand resting on the middle of my back for only a second before shoving me into the line of fire.

And believe me, it ain’t friendly.

“It was one simple request, a request made by me, in my home, after you and Yuy decided to come uninvited. Then you invade my space, bringing your arguments with you, and disrupt my sleep. After that, you sleep, again uninvited, in my home. I find that… quite rude. Disrespectful, even. And then the one request I ask of you is ignored as you leave through a _window—_ ”

At the mere mention of it, the glass trembles. I can see small fractures forming on the panes separating the inside of the house from the outside. Despite the physical evidence, Wufei’s voice doesn’t rise or drop at all.

“— and leave the meal I took the time to cook for you, with my food, untouched and left to spoil on my table.”

The plate, still sitting on the table, splits into several pieces, the cold food starting to spread through the fissures.

“Do you know that upset me, Maxwell? To return and find all of this still on my table, and you gone?”

I can’t say anything. I’m not sure there’s anything to say; he’s right, after all. Even if it’s fucked up and terrifying to listen to.

“Give the brat a break,” Howie rumbles deeply behind me, a large hand resting on my right shoulder. “The moron came to get me so he could argue his side of the story.”

“Are you aware of what accusation is being tossed around?” Wufei asks him neutrally, and I feel more than see his returning nod.

“That I am. An’ I think some elephants in the room need to be cleaned up and sent back to the zoo before we end up gettin’ trampled in the stampede.”

That’s Howard for you, shovin’ my ass into the fire just to pull it back out like nothing’s happened.

* * *

“I have video footage of Trowa engaging in sexual intercourse with my employee, in my office, at an hour when the office was closed for business for the evening and not scheduled to reopen until nine the following morning.”

“And I’m tellin’ ya, it ain’t rape,” I snarl, my temper rising again in the face of Heero’s cold, precise evidence.

“You are not of the age to consent legally.”

“Like fuck I’m not!” I yell, rising to my feet. Howie yanks on the back of my shirt, pulling me once again to the sofa.

I feel like this entire argument is on some sick loop, playing over and over again in the same way.

Wufei sits silently off to the side, a cup of steaming tea clasped in his hands as he observes our fight.

“You have to see how it appears, kid,” Howie reminds me. “You don’t appear to be old enough to not have your voice still cracking, you know.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous, that’s what it is. I’m old enough to choose who I sleep with. It’s not like I’m a blushin’ virgin, for fuck’s sake!”

“Until you are sixteen, you cannot be considered old enough to make decisions of this nature with an adult,” Heero repeats, and I think the only thing holding back the urge to chuck something at that goddamn blank face of his is Howie’s fingers gripping my wrist tightly.

“There’re a few facts that need to be aired before we continue this. _I’m_ getting pissed, not to mention I have work tonight and I’d like to sleep at some point today,” he cuts in, his eyes darting between me, Heero, and Wufei seriously.

“First off, the brat’s old enough to consent. This ain’t rape, though it’s messed up. I mean, damn Duo, he’s your brother-in-law! At least try to branch away from the tree.”

I flush, my gaze dropping to the floor. It’s not like I chose for Cathy to shack up with my brother.

“Secondly, how old do you think the idjit is to begin with?”

“Thirteen?” Wufei tosses out, Heero’s response of ‘Fifteen’ echoing along with it.

“Well, let’s toss this out into the open. How old did you think he was last year when you found him hiding in the back of a shit-infested drug den?”

The silence that follows that question is answer enough. Suspicion blooms in Heero’s eyes, and Wufei’s disbelieving answer solidifies it.

“Thirteen.”

“Well, how many thirteen-year-olds still look thirteen over a year later?” Howie urges, leading the struggling fish to the bait.

“None. Which means—”

“How old are you, Duo?” Wufei asks gently, the previous pressure lacing his words vanishing into pure concern.

“…I’m almost thirty,” I admit, tugging at my braid anxiously.

I kind of wish they’d start shouting again, because the silence is killing me.

“How is that even possible? How can you be older than me?!” Wufei asks, his voice rising along with his incredulity. I shrug, twining my braid around my hand and looking at the floor. Howie decides that I’ve been tossed under the bus enough, and answers for me.

“No one knows. Cathy’s been trying to find any shred or scrap of reference to something like this happening before with a botched demon summoning ritual, or necromancy gone wrong… but nothing’s turned up and it’s been over a decade. We never knew how old he was to begin with, so he’s at least twenty-six, and at the oldest twenty-nine.”

“That means… You’re older than your sister-in-law.”

Trust Heero to hone in on that fact.

“Yeah. I am.”

“And she married your brother, who was older at the time than you are now.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“That’s fucked up,” Wufei points out, and I shrug.

“Is it any more fucked up than sleeping with a man who looks older than I do, yet is probably nine years younger?”

Wufei doesn’t have an answer to this, but Heero changes the subject anyway.

“If you are indeed the age you say you are, it explains how so much of your knowledge was retained.”

“Yeah, an’ it’d be hard to erase, that’s for sure. But speaking of memory,” I latch onto the subject, desperate to let _my_ subject die, “what the hell’s wrong with yours?”

“Excuse me?” Heero asks, raising a single eyebrow.

“I don’t get how you’re freaking out about Tro an’ me gettin’ it on now, when you’ve walked in on us at least four other times over the last year.”

“I have never seen you engage in any sexually charged activities prior to now.”

“Bullshit. You pretty much walked in on us at Relena’s place with Tro’s hand down my pants - and not figuratively,” I add, narrowing my eyes. I see a flush crossing the bridge of Wufei’s nose, and I absently wonder if it’ll start bleeding again. “Cathy’s teased us about it in your presence at least once, Relena too. Why are you so angry and upset about it now? Not to mention you don’t have any damn cameras set up in the office. I know, because I’m the one who saves and backs up the video feeds from the external cameras. And I looked.” I admit the last part with less vehemence. “I was bored and decided to see if you were stalking me in the office, too.”

“I saw you on video feeds. There are video feeds,” Heero repeats, though a trickle of doubt is creeping into his words. “I saw the feed.”

“Did you? Or do you _think_ you saw the feed, because that’s what you’re meant to think?” I press, a small bug of suspicion hatching in my brain. _It can’t be_ … “Do you really remember nothing ‘bout me an’ Tro?”

“I have no recollection of having witnessed this behaviour before,” Heero says, and I grip my hair tighter at the lost tone the words come out in.

Has the man never been unsure before?

“What could cause you to forget memories? Specific memories, even?” I ask, my eyes glancing towards the resident bookworm. He takes the cue, rapping his fingers against his knee, the tea having long gone cold in his other hand.

“I can only come up with a few reasons. Trauma—”

“Doubt it,” I comment, but Wufei ignores me.

“—possession during the time the event was taking place—”

“Too noticeable.”

“—leaving him without a memory, outside tampering from spiritual origins—”

“Would have happened before now with how much shit you two get into.”

“—or outside tampering from a psychic.”

I have no comeback for that. Neither does Heero, who hasn’t said much since I burst his bubble. Howie speaks up then, making me jump. I forgot about him.

“I think we need to call your sister, Duo. She might have a better answer for us. Be prepared to hate the answer,” he says ominously.

Aw, well, shit. That’s never a good sign.

* * *

“Hey, pretty lady,” Howie chimes over the phone, the speaker on the black box ringing with the shouts of children and a harassed female voice.

“Howard, is that you? What— Gabriel Solomon Bloom, put your brother back on the floor this instant! — happened?”

“Can’t I make a social call for once?” he asks, and the snort over the phone answers eloquently.

“If you ever called me just to chat, I’d think the apocalypse finally happened.”

“Well, you’re right, as usual,” Howie relents. “How many psychics or practitioners are there who specialize in the removal and altering of memories?”

The shouting of kids is all that comes over the line before Cathy speaks softly, her voice nearly drowned out by her children.

“You know the answer already. There’s only one person I know who can take memories from a living being.”

“I was afraid that was the answer. Can I apologize in advance?”

“Was it intentional? Please tell me it was an accident, Howard. Tell me he didn’t do it on purpose.”

The raw pain in her voice makes me wince, and Howard, despite not being able to see her anguish, turns his face from the phone as he answers her.

“No, it wasn’t an accident.”

“I see…” she says gently. “Then, please, try to do what you can to prevent it from happening again. Whatever it takes.”

“I’m sorry.”

The call ends, the line blaring a dial tone. Howard presses the button to turn the speakerphone off before standing up from the circular table. Heero shoves the phone to the side, back to where it sits on the conference table.

“We need to find Trowa Barton and find out why he’s been messing around with Heero’s brain.”

* * *

I never thought that I’d walk through these doors and feel pain. Everything’s where I left it. Even the food I didn’t bother to put away is rotting on the counter. I don’t take off my shoes - I want to get the hell out of dodge if need be - and head back towards Trowa’s bedroom - the last place I saw the asshole.

Everything’s untouched, the sheets still rumpled from us falling out of the bed. If I breathe deeply, I can still smell the sex in the air.

I swallow, steeling my resolve and crouching at the foot of the dresser, sliding the drawer open. I push past the socks, finding the papers and junk I’d unearthed two weeks after moving in permanently.

“Where is it…?” I mumble, finally seeing the off-white sheet of paper with the information I’m looking for. I hold it up without looking at it, feeling it slide between my fingers as it’s grabbed and pulled from my hand.

I shut the drawer before I can see the pictures of our nephews and niece.

“I’m going to go pack my shit,” I mutter, shouldering past the three men trying to fill the space.

I can feel ice forming in my soul, numbing the sensation of betrayal. Packing doesn’t take long, just shoving some dirty clothes into my duffle bag and putting three books on top of that, followed by dragging the bag down the hall and towards the front door.

The front door that was shut when we came in, but now hangs open.

I don’t have time to react before an arm slams across my throat, yanking me back against a warm, solid chest with enough force to silence me before I can even yelp in pain. My vision grows fuzzy, and the last words I hear before I give in to the urge to pass out are a whispered apology in a soft, familiar voice.

“I’m sorry.”

* * *

I can’t tell how long I’ve been unconscious, but trying to figure it out takes a seat on the back burner as pain flares up my neck, a rasping cough forming in my bruised throat.

There’s no one who reaches out for me, no one who hands me a cup of water, or even an ice chip.

When I open my eyes, I meet darkness. It takes a few times of reopening and closing them for me to make out a sliver of light near head-level, vertical from my point of view. As my eyes adjust, I figure out I’m lying on my side. The sliver of light is the bottom of a door, though what door I can’t tell.

I can’t twist to look around me, I can’t see where I am.

Panic fills me, the scent of blood tickling my senses. Whether there’s blood present or I’m hallucinating (highly likely, actually, all things considered), I can’t make out. But it’s there, and it’s freaking me out.

“Nnnnghhh!” I groan, my attempt to form words failing miserably. All I do is make my throat hurt worse, and I fling my head back reflexively, trying to escape the pain. I hit something hard, solid, and unmovable.

Great, now the headache hurts even more. Fucking oxygen deprivation.

Fucking solid thing behind my head.

Fucking Trowa.

I twist my hands, the slight chaffing burn against my wrists telling me that I’ll be here for a while; at least until I can think straight and moving doesn’t make me want to pass out again. I gently rest my head back against the floor, closing my eyes.

* * *

I wiggle my toes, black ripples dancing out across the liquid landscape. My hands rest against my side, my pale skin exposed and glowing lightly in the darkness. I take a step forward, watching the turmoil that forms under my feet.

Such a small movement for such a large reaction.

“Don’t break the surface,” I hear behind me, but I’m not startled. I was wondering where she was at this point.

“Serena,” I murmur, not turning to look at her. Hands rest on my shoulders, squeezing gently.

“Don’t break the surface,” she repeats, her hands rubbing the bare skin of my arms lightly.

“Why did he do it?” I ask her, leaning into her embrace. Her arms wrap around me, not giving me warmth.

“That,” Serena says softly, “is where you should look under the surface. But not here. Don’t break the surface.”

I don’t say anything else, just staring into the darkness.

* * *

“Open the door.”

Heero’s cold, harsh words penetrate the darkness of my prison. I want to tell him something sarcastic - like, “If I could, do you think I’d still be in here?” - but it doesn’t take long for me to figure out he’s not talking to me.

The door clicks open, and the burst of light that comes in to steal away the dark blinds me.

“Nng!!” I groan, curling into a ball and turning my face away from the source of my pain.

“Duo?” I hear, and when a hand touches the side of my face, I can only admit truthfully to doing one thing.

I freak out.

I kick out - oh look, my legs aren’t tied - and feel my foot connect with something solid-yet-yielding. There’s a grunt of pain, but then hands press down on my foot.

I hear someone cry out, pure agony in their voice.

“Duo, calm down! It’s me, damn it!”

“Nn!” I cry, and the howl of agony repeats.

“He’s panicking,” a familiar voice - why do I know this voice? they shouldn’t be here, they wouldn’t hurt me - and a cold, gentle pressure moves against my senses.

“Duo, calm down. You’re safe. He’s not going to hurt you. We want to check you for injuries.”

“Nnn, Solo?” I murmur, and I feel myself being lifted into strong arms.

“No, kid. It’s Howie.”

“Where’s m’bro?” I slur. “Wher’zzee?”

“Do you know where you are?” Howie asks, and I open my eyes again - when did I close them? - and see a face far too old to be my friend.

“Who— Oww, fuck,” I groan, tucking my head back against his chest.

“Disoriented. Must have hit his head pretty hard.”

“There’s a little blood on the edge of the shelf, check his head.”

“Yeah, it’s dried in his hair.”

“Just get him out of here.”

I feel Howie’s footsteps, the shuffling of me in his arms as he moves through the doorway, and a cool blast of air brushing my skin, a little damp-feeling.

Now that the panic’s fading, I’m remembering more of what happened.

We came to find out where Trowa was. I went to pack my bag, and then—

“Howie,” I croak, “he came back-”

“We know, kid. He’s back at the house.”

I’m carried inside - at least, I think I am. It’s no longer raining on me, and there’s no wind against my skin. It’s also warmer. When a hand touches me I flinch, but Wufei’s soothing voice reaches my ear.

“It’s okay, Duo. It’s just me.”

“Where is he?” I ask, and it doesn’t take a genius to know who I’m asking about.

“Heero’s dealing with him.”

“I want to see him,” I whisper as I’m set down on what’s probably the sofa. The pressure against my wrists lessens, and I open my eyes to see Wufei stepping back from me, a sheared length of rope clutched in one hand.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says warily, and as he turns to throw the rope away I see a trail of blood along his neck.

“What happened?!” I say, trying to sit up. Dizziness hits me, causing me to sink back down.

“Take a moment, you hit your head pretty hard,” Howie tells me, pushing me back into the cushions. I can see the stress on his face, the way his eyes are creasing and the furrow of his brow.

I haven’t seen him this worried since after—

“I lost it,” I remember, thinking aloud. “I thought he was back.”

“Barton was there for a moment, but only to let us find you. We wouldn’t have found you otherwise.”

“No. Not Tro— Barton. I mean, my brother.”

Howie doesn’t say anything, messing around with his watch for a couple of beats before sighing.

“I know. Are you that surprised?”

“It’s been almost twelve years since he died.”

“I know.”

“Stop that!” I snap, the force of my words making me cough. After I catch my breath again, I press a hand gently against my throat as I glare down the man across from me. “Don’t fuckin’ start that shit. It ain’t your fault. What happened to Solo was my—”

“That wasn’t your fault either. If you won’t let me accept the blame for what I did, you can’t either. Understand? Solo never would have known how to do what the fuck he did to you if I didn’t teach him.”

“He never would have tried if he didn’t have me as a tool,” I retort. “Wouldn’t have mattered if you taught him shit or not, I enabled him.”

“You weren’t a tool, Duo,” Howie says. “Solo loved you.”

“Isn’t it ironic?” I muse, leaning back into the cushions. I’m staring ahead, but not seeing a thing. “He loved me. I know that. But that turned into past-tense a long time before he died.”

“Before he died,” Howie starts, hesitant, “he asked me one thing. It was the only thing he ever asked me for that didn’t involve him directly.”

I flick my gaze up, giving the man my undivided attention. Howie’s staring at his hands, a well-worn leather wallet loosely grasped in his fingers.

“It was the night he tried to sacrifice you. He came to my house, let himself in like the brat he was, and raided my fridge. I wasn’t even home at the time, but when I came back he was flying high and completely drunk. He said he was going to do something stupid, something that would kill him, but he asked a favour of me. ‘Howard,’ he asked, and that caught my attention. In the entire time I knew him he never called me by my name. But anyway. ‘Howard, could you take care of Duo? Don’t let him make my mistakes. Get him out of this shithole.’”

I feel the burn behind my eyes, the pain in my chest, and the tremor in my hands, but Howard continues regardless.

“I didn’t know he was planning on trying to take you with him. I have no idea what drove him to lose it so completely. He wanted me to take care of you, but then he offered you up as the sacrifice? I don’t know why I let him walk back out the door that night. But I did. And each time I see you, I’m reminded of how I failed you both. I was his teacher, his mentor, and I didn’t do a damn thing to stop him. Fuck, I gave him my blessing! I told him ‘Whatever it is, I hope you succeed.’ He just gave me that crooked smile and walked out the door. And I let him.”

I don’t say anything. I’m not sure what would leave my mouth if I open it at this point. I might curse him out, putting all the blame on him. I might ask him why he didn’t tell me this _twelve_ _fucking years ago_. I might ask him why he’s telling me this now. I might just scream. I might end up crying.

I might tell him it’s not his fault. I might tell him that he couldn’t have known.

I might tell him how I knew what was going to happen the moment I saw Solo standing in the rain, no jacket and blond hair plastered to his face, on the stairs of the church. I might tell him how I didn’t try to run, knowing I was going to my end. I might tell him how I pleaded with my brother to spare me, even as I let him chain me to the circle. I might tell him how I watched the rift form in the middle of the room, how I still hear Solo’s screams each night in my dreams, or how the stench of blood still haunts me to this day.

I might have told him all of this. But I don’t say a damn thing.

All I do is close my eyes and try to hold back the tears.

Wufei asks Howie if he would like a drink before he comes to crouch next to me.

“We’re about to start the interrogation. Would you like to join us?”

I nod, pushing myself upright. I feel a little woozy, but not enough to knock me flat on my ass. Wufei keeps a hand on my elbow anyway, helping me down the hallway and back to the room where Trowa and I—

_What are you, some heartbroken teenage girl?_ I scold myself, stepping over the threshold. The sight I see isn’t one I was expecting.

Blood stains the front of Trowa’s shirt, the source quite obvious by looking at his face. Dry blood’s crusting under his chin, a trail of it stemming from the left corner of his mouth. One of his eyes is a bit swollen, and even more blood can be seen drying in his hair and along his hairline. All the dried flakes of blood along the side of his face makes his five o’clock shadow noticeable, the small amount of stubble he has at night quite visible when highlighted against the dark reddish-brown colour.

The room reeks of blood. I feel my vision tilt, the smell of smoke teasing my senses.

Wufei’s hand steadies me, bringing me back to the present. I force the pain, the betrayal, and the small bit of lust his mere presence forms to the back of my mind, burying it under a pile of cold, cold emptiness.

“Good evening, Barton. Or is it morning at this point?” I ask him softly, my voice void of the turmoil raging in the pit of my soul.

He flinches. Good.

“Barton. You are going to answer me when I ask you a question. You are not going to lie. You are not going to deceive. You will answer me clearly, without hesitance, and without doubt. You will conceal nothing. You will refuse me nothing. _You are nothing_. Do you understand?”

Heero’s words are crisp, concise, and leave little room for interpretation. They are also backed with sheer power, power that I hadn’t even been aware the man possesses. They coat each word, each syllable punctuated by the persuasive weave laced within them. I can almost _see_ it wrapping around Trowa’s body, his mind being pierced with the suggestions Heero’s choking him with.

“Yes.”

“Good. You erased multiple memories of mine associated with you and Duo Maxwell. Is this true?”

“Yes.” I can see the sweat across Trowa’s brow, a sign of his futile struggle to slip the hold Heero has on him.

“Precisely, you erased the memories where I witnessed you engaging in acts considered to be sexual in nature between you and Duo Maxwell. Is this true?”

“Yes.” The pain in Trowa’s voice isn’t masked. Good, let him hurt.

“Elaborate.”

The word is tainted with so much power I _can_ see it hanging in the air, the power pushing against Trowa’s fragile mind.

“I was afraid that my time with Duo would be limited if you remembered… that I wouldn’t be able to spend time with him. I didn’t… I didn’t…”

“Elaborate!” Heero shouts, slamming his hand down on the dresser. The smack of flesh on wood has Trowa flinching, more words pouring out of the man than I thought possible.

“I didn’t want to lose him to an asshole like you! I didn’t want you to have that power over me, to control me with the only thing I wanted. Damn it, I just wanted something that belonged to _me,_ not given to me on the whim of someone else! I didn’t want him held over me as a prize, as a reward for being a _good boy_. I just wanted the freedom to act as I pleased, to not be afraid of you stepping in and deciding that I couldn’t see him anymore!”

_Like what we’re doing now,_ I realize, but the sick horror is shoved away into the pit, the emptiness keeping me cool and collected.

“Then why, if you were so afraid of me taking him from you,” Heero says calmly, steady blue eyes never leaving dull green ones, “did you give me a false memory of you two fornicating in my office?”

Trowa pales, a sheen of sweat covering what skin I can see. He’s trembling at this point, a few new rivets of blood streaming down his face.

“I didn’t do that,” he whispers. “Why would I do that?”

“Indeed, what would you get from providing me with a memory of reviewing video feed from a camera that doesn’t exist? Even more, in such a manner where I didn’t even realize I was being deceived because the fact that I don’t have cameras in my office didn’t occur to me and had to be brought to my attention from an outside source?”

“I don’t have anything to gain from that!” Trowa shouts, louder than I’ve ever heard him yell, even in the throes of sex. “That’s the exact opposite of what I was trying to do! Why would I blow my own cover?!”

“Because you weren’t the one to do it,” Wufei murmurs. “Which means that there’s someone else out there with the ability to do what you do.”

“I can’t give people memories,” Trowa gasps, a trickle of blood spilling over his bottom lip. “I can only take them away, hide them from the conscious mind… I can’t make them. I promise you. I can’t do that. I didn’t do that. Please, stop…”

“Why did you assault Duo Maxwell in your front room, then tie him up and put him in a storage unit three blocks away from here?” Heero asks, apparently not done with his new toy. Because that’s all Trowa is at this point, a damn doll at Heero’s whim.

“I didn’t want to lose him,” Trowa whispers, his eyes searching to find me. “I didn’t want him to leave me. Ever.”

“So you attempted to kidnap him?”

“Yes. Then he would still be with me.”

“You didn’t consider that he would take your actions negatively?”

“I was prepared for that possibility.”

“How were you planning on keeping him from leaving?”

Trowa coughs, an alarming amount of blood spraying through the air and dribbling down his chin. Wufei steps forward, planting a hand on Heero’s chest and pushing him back from Trowa.

“Break the hold, you’ll kill him at this rate.”

“Is that such a horrible thing?” Heero asks quietly, his eyes shining with power. Wufei pushes him again, Heero’s back hitting the wall.

“Break the hold, or I’ll break it for you. Either way, you need to let it go.”

Heero stares blankly at Wufei for a few moments before the tension in the air vanishes and Trowa leans forward, coughing and panting heavily. Heero slumps back, his eyes fluttering closed and his breath coming in sharp gasps.

“Duo,” Trowa rasps, his green eyes desperately seeking mine. I take a step forward, placing myself in his line of sight. He looks up, the raw pain in his eyes not affecting my resolve.

I lift my hand, my fingers steady and facing towards the ceiling, my palm facing the man tied to the chair in front of me. I let a part of my soul slide out of place, a torrent of power rising to the surface, escaping from the small crack I’ve made within myself. My skin glows with a dim purple sheen, and I curl my thumb, ring finger, and pinky over my palm, the power rushing to rest in the tips of my index and middle fingers. I cut my hand down through the air, a trail of light following my gesture.

Trowa screams, tossing his head back and closing his eyes instinctively. A blossom of red forms a line across his chest, starting near his right shoulder and ending near his hip on the left. I flick my hand sharply to the left, and Trowa screams again. More lines of red form on his sweater, expanding across the fabric at an alarming rate.

I feel someone grab me from behind, pulling me sharply out of the room and slamming me back against a hard surface.

The power explodes from my skin. Whoever has me though doesn’t let it affect them.

A sharp slap across my face forces me to focus, the power vanishing from my body instantly. It leaves me light-headed, and Howard’s furious face swims into focus in front of my own.

“Duo Maxwell, what the fuck are you doing?!”

“I’m letting him feel how disappointed I am,” I reply blankly. “An eye for an eye, a life for—”

“He might have done some fucked up things, but he didn’t kill anyone you care about,” Howard shouts, his hands shaking me in time with his words. “He didn’t kill Heero Yuy, and by some goddamn miracle he didn’t kill you. But I might, you understand? I’m ready to fucking kill you. Using your own soul to tear his?! Do you want to be a murderer?!”

“I already am,” I point out. “I crossed that line a long time ago.”

“While under the thumb of your brother, and while under my care. But you aren’t there anymore. You aren’t that scared little shit who followed the commands of another without a second thought. You are Duo Maxwell, the annoying shit who can’t seem to keep his nose out of others’ affairs. You’re Duo Maxwell, the little shit who, even though you hate her, takes care of his brother’s wife and kids. You’re Duo Maxwell, the boy who just can’t stay out of trouble. You’re Duo Maxwell, the man who’s trying to gain redemption by stopping others from going down the same path as you. Do you want to ruin all of that? Do you want to ruin the life you’ve made, the bonds you’ve formed, and the respect you’ve gained because someone made a stupid choice? Do you want to take more of Cathy’s family from her?”

That last question strikes me hard, and I look up into the old man’s unforgiving gaze. I look down at my hands, shadowed and stained like they’re the hands of a stranger.

“I… I…”

“I can’t save you from yourself, Duo Maxwell. I can only hope you make the right choice.”

Howie turns from me, glancing once through the open doorway at the broken man in the chair. He then turns and walks down the short hallway, through the living room and lets himself out the front door.

I don’t move, paralyzed by my own fear.

What the hell did I do? What the fuck have I done?

“Duo?” Wufei asks me, standing in the threshold of the door. I whimper, my knees buckling.

“I could have killed him,” I croak.

“I know,” he says. “Will you help me patch him up?”

I raise my gaze to look at him and find a lack of scorn, a lack of judgment in the man who has always been quick to give it. It helps me find my feet, step away from the wall, and cross the line I had almost erased with my actions.

The line I couldn’t have remade once gone.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Trowa whispers again, staring blankly at the ceiling. I wrap the gauze around his arm, the too-cleanly-cut lines there making me nauseous.

_I put those there. I tore him apart._

“How’s the boss-man?” I ask Wufei, ignoring the words directed at me. Wufei shrugs.

“Recovering. He tends to get lost in the stream of power and needs to regain a sense of… reality? I don’t quite understand what happens, but he’s sleeping it off. He’ll be good and back to normal by dawn.”

“Oh.”

And here comes the awkward, tense silence again.

I secure the wrapping, taping the ends of the bandaging into place, and picking up a pair of scissors I carefully cut through the thick, blood-soaked fabric of his favourite turtleneck sweater. It squelches as my fingers squeeze it, a little trail of blood streaking across my knuckles and down the back of my hand as I lift it away.

I feel bile in the back of my throat.

Trowa’s torso is a mess. Open wounds, freshly bleeding as the ‘bandage’ strips any potential scabs away, crisscross the pale flesh. There are several bruises mingling among the torn skin, and two deep gouges in his skin, the edges melted and charred.

One goes from his right shoulder to his left hip, and the other across the center of his stomach.

I don’t allow my hands to shake as I gently clean the mess, pressing gauze to the wounds and taping the edges to hold them in place. Using the same scissors that removed his sweater, I cut at the edges of his melted skin, ignoring the cries of pain coming from the man I’m mutilating. I refuse to let myself turn away, to empty the meager contents of my stomach as I thread a needle, letting my lighter sterilize the length of metal before sliding it under the skin, poking out into the open wound then going across, coming to rest on the opposite side and leaving a trail of black surgical thread loosely strung in the chasm. I take hold of the end closest to me, holding it still as I pull the needle towards me again, the pressure of both sides pulling the two pieces of flesh together and hiding the muscle underneath from my sight. I expertly tie it off, snipping the end of the string and moving up a short way to repeat the motion.

After securing the last stitch, I place gauze over the bleeding strips and tape them down before having Wufei help me get Trowa sitting upright to wrap it all with bandages. I pass it across the back of Trowa, handing it to Wufei to pass along the front of his chest and back to me. The two of us quickly get Trowa cleaned up and drugged to the eyeballs with painkillers, antibiotics, and sleeping pills.

Wouldn’t want him wandering off, after all.

In the kitchen Wufei treats my meager wounds. There’s a cut to the back of my head he cleans and wraps, and my neck is checked to make sure nothing’s broken before being wrapped lightly to hide it from sight. It’s turned a nasty shade of black, blue, purple, and yellow, and would only look worse in the coming days.

Trowa didn’t hold back, after all.

Neither did I.

“We need to investigate who has been tampering with Yuy’s memories, and discover if any of our memories have been tampered with as well. This is a serious problem, if that is the case. How much is compromised?” Wufei asks, washing his hands in the kitchen sink. The sound of wood slamming against plaster has me pulling open the drawer next to the stove, a knife sliding into my hand and ready to toss at whoever dares to come in.

Luckily for Heero, I recognize him before I let the blade fly.

“Fuck, don’t do that, man!” I breathe, letting the knife rest against my thigh lightly as I lean against the counter.

Heero looks like shit. His hair’s sticking up oddly along the left side, traces of blood and sweat stick to his skin, and his clothes are well-rumpled. He looks exhausted, definitely not like he should be out of bed and walking around.

“It’s been determined that Trowa Barton, while responsible for removing several memories, isn’t responsible for that which we first accused him of. That does, however, leave an unknown factor in the equation.”

“We know. And I don’t like the thought of leaving that person to freely wander around unchecked.”

“Neither do I. I don’t have the connections or the resources to investigate further on the matter. So I will be calling upon the help of Quatre Winner and Miss Peacecraft. It will be their decision whether to assist in this or not, but I do not wish to let the matter rest.”

“I can call in favours,” I toss in, grinning bitterly when two sets of eyes meet mine. “I’m a Necromancer, remember? I know a _lot_ of people, and have plenty of names that’ll loosen lips.”

“Keep that thought in mind, I might take you up on it,” Heero says, before pulling out one of the kitchen chairs and sitting down heavily. “I need to establish a temporary office until it can be determined that an object isn’t helping establish a connection between our minds and the falsified memories. As the false memory is linked to the office, that is a possibility.”

“I would offer my home, but—”

“It might be tampered. You commute between there and here often, and I have spent several nights at your residence between cases.”

“Well, my place is out,” I point out, gesturing around us. “It ain’t my place.”

“My residence is not a possibility, either,” Heero sighs.

I bite my lip, looking at the wall behind Heero blankly. Heero raises an eyebrow, a gesture for me to voice the suggestion that has just popped into my mind.

“Well… I could call in a favour… but it might not be enough.”

“Do what is needed, this cannot be dragged out.”

I open the drawer I’d grabbed the knife from, replacing it and pulling out the cell phone that’s been in there since the day I moved in. Opening it, I press down on the number three and put it to my ear once I hear the ringing begin on the line. Four sets of tones later, a tired voice answers the phone.

“Duo?”

“Hey, sis, I was wondering if me and my friends can spend the night…”

* * *

“The kids are still sleeping,” she tells us, holding the door open while Wufei and Heero bring in their suitcases. Trowa’s sitting in the car, tied up and not going anywhere soon. I lean against the frame, tired and at the end of my rope.

Cathy touches the bandage against my throat, a hum of concern echoing in her own.

“Your baby brother decided to chokehold me and then kidnap me. Wasn’t that sweet of him?” I bite out harshly, taking a step back out of her reach. The pain in her eyes doesn’t soften mine.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t—”

“I know,” I sigh, tossing my head back to look at the sleeping man in the back seat of the van. “It’s been a long night.”

“Tell me about it,” she agrees, the same exhaustion in my body given voice in her words. “I get a call from Howard telling me he’s been tampering with people’s minds, then I’m up all night, worried that I might never see him again. If he was reporting to the Order—”

“He’d be dead. I know.”

“The price of using his power as he did is too high…”

“And you never listed him as a mind-messer, did you? Wouldn’t want to taint your pure reputation, after all. A psychotic Necromancer as a husband, his failed experiment and assistant as your brother-in-law, three-and-a-half untrained and unlisted children, and a mind-fucking little brother. What a predicament, isn’t it? What would the Order say if they discovered that?”

“They would execute us all, that’s what they would do,” she snaps angrily. “I did it for all of us. I kept us out of the limelight, from the eyes of those who would rather kill us than let us wander without a leash. Be grateful I didn’t tell them about you when I reported Solo’s death to the Council.”

“You could have warned me,” I tell her coldly. “I would have liked to know I was trying to get in the pants of a man who could manipulate what I thought was real.”

“Warn you?” she laughs bitterly. “What was there to warn you about? My baby brother wouldn’t go out of his way to intentionally cause someone harm—”

“But apparently he would go out of his way to soothe his guilty conscience,” I retort, and she flushes a deep red.

“How dare you—!”

“Hush now, you’ll wake the children,” a deep voice breaks in, causing my blood to run cold.

Oh fuck.

“Oh! Sorry, hun, did I wake you?” Cathy asks, the anger fleeing her words as she turns to her husband. I stalk past her into the house, sidestepping the man towering over the two of us and escape to the back bedroom that Cathy’s allowing the four of us to use for the time being.

“Dick,” I snarl, tossing my bag onto the empty bed. The bags of both Heero and Wufei are also on it, giving away that it won’t be used for sleeping - not that there’s enough room for four men to fit on a single-wide mattress - but more for storage and a temporary table. Already Heero has set out files and papers along the sheets (freshly printed from a brand-new laptop and printer he bought on the way up here) and a large briefcase rests against the back wall, untouched and ignored.

“Duo,” Heero looks up from where he’s bent over, a fresh stack of printed papers held in his hand, “please look over the documents in the file,” he gestures to the ‘ignored’ briefcase “and please check to see if you can sense anything from them.”

“As far as we can tell, my memories have not been altered or affected,” Wufei adds, “But neither have yours. I didn’t feel anything from them, but you might be able to pick up on what I cannot.”

‘Necromancy’ my mind substitutes, and I pick up the battered leather case and pop it open, pausing for only a second as the images stare back up at me.

I should have guessed he’d try to salvage the only references I’ve ever given him. Circles, photos, pages of hand-scrawled notes and comments, and a couple small tapes of what must have been our recorded interviews-slash-debriefings.

“Of all the things you had to bring with you,” I mutter, snapping the case shut, “you had to bring this shit.”

“I am aware you would not replicate the information in there. I felt the risk of bringing it along outweighed the risk of losing it,” Heero responds, unaffected by my dark attitude.

“Just don’t leave this shit lying around,” I warn, pushing the files underneath the bed. “I don’t want the kids to come across it, or worse, their father.”

“Then change out the lock on the door handle,” Cathy pipes in, leaning against the frame of the door. “I don’t want them seeing this shit. I prefer to keep work and home separate.”

“Thanks for letting us come, Sissy,” I tell her, walking up and giving her a hug. I can feel her surprise, the tension in her as I physically embrace her - nothing I’ve ever done willingly - before she realizes that I’m _hugging her_. She squeezes me back, her face dipping down to bury herself in my hair, her nose and lips brushing against my scalp.

“You’ve always been welcome to come home, Duo, and you always will be,” she whispers, before stepping back and wiping at damp eyes.

I close the door quietly behind her, leaning my head against the wooden barrier between her life and mine.

I will never be welcome here, not while her husband lives here as well.


	11. Case 7, Part 2

“Mom doesn’t let food leave the kitchen.”

I shrug, biting into the sandwich. Cathy’s oldest son, Rafael, is sitting next to me, watching me work. I’m not going through anything that would get me in trouble with Cathy if she caught us, but I still angle the sheet away from his view.

“Are you supposed to be bugging me?” I ask him, turning the page over to start writing on the back. Until we had access to a new computer, I had to write everything out by hand. Heero wants a report on my ‘incident’ with Trowa, so that’s what I’m working on right now.

Or trying to, but Rafael’s making it hard to focus.

“Mom and the people who came with you are talking with Uncle Trowa, and I’m not allowed to be in there with them.”

“Go bug your father then,” I suggest, my words holding a harder bite than I intend. Rafael smiles, seeming to miss the insult levied at his dad.

“Mom says you’re my uncle too. You’re the one she keeps going to help, aren’t you? Why haven’t I ever met you before?”

“Because I don’t get along with your parents very well, kid,” I answer, chewing on the end of the pen as I figure out the most professional way to write “fucked on the office sofa” before shrugging and just writing it out that way.

“Why not? Mom and Dad are really nice, I like them a lot! And I like Uncle Trowa a lot, too.”

“Your Mom doesn’t like me much. So it’s just fair play, I guess. It’s not important.”

“Well, that’s stupid. You seem nice… I like being around you.”

I bite my tongue, my pen pressing against the paper more firmly. It’s hard to ignore the curious shining purple eyes though, so I give up, tucking the pen behind my ear and stacking the papers into a pile, stretching my legs out and giving him my full attention.

“You have my attention, brat, so make good use of it.”

* * *

Wufei finds us in the yard, the brat pinning me to the ground and pulling on my hair. I’m trying to twist my body, to fling the small brat off of me, but he already buried my legs in a tipped over pile of firewood and it’s hard to move right now.

“What the— What are you doing, Duo? You’re supposed to be working, not playing with children.”

“Does this look like I’m having fun?” I snarl, struggling to rescue my hair from the clutches of the nine-year-old strangling it. Wufei laughs, but helps rescue me from the brat.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m done. It looks like they’re done too, so please go bug your mother now,” I say, grumbling as I run my hands over my hair, feeling how much damage it took. Rafael runs into the house, laughing, and as soon as the door slams shut, I drop my hands and turn to look at Wufei.

“Hey, can you do me a favour?” I ask, my words serious, and Wufei straightens his back, the humour in his eyes vanishing at my words.

“Depends.”

“Good answer. I need to… get evidence. Evidence that I can’t drag you or Heero along for, since the risk is too high. But if I can get it, I can prove who’s behind all of this, who’s been behind _all_ of these fucked up cases. If you cover my ass long enough then it will be safe to return home.”

“I won’t lie to Heero, but if you don’t tell me where you’re going I can’t tell him either,” Wufei points out, and I grin.

“Knew I liked you for a reason, Wuffers. I’ll see you… sometime soon. Just stay here with Cathy until I return, okay?”

I watch Wufei go inside, and I give the house one last, longing look before turning my back and closing my eyes.

_I_ _’m going to prove you’re guilty, I swear._

* * *

“Duo! It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen you here,” Iria greets, a smile blooming across her face as I step into the room. I smile back at her gently, crouching next to her chair and placing a light kiss on her pale cheek.

“I’m sorry I’ve taken so long, work’s been Hell,” I tell her, coming to rest on my knees. I let my arms cross over the side of her chair, my hand reaching to hold hers.

“With your job, I’m not sure if you’re jesting or being literal,” she teases, her light blue eyes - so much like her baby brother’s - dancing in mirth.

This was the dark humour I love to hear from her, and mainly the part of her that keeps drawing me back.

“Sadly, I am here on business,” I confess, shrugging my shoulder in a sheepish gesture. “I’m looking for your brother. I was hoping he’d be able to help me with something.”

“I haven’t seen him here in a while, it’s his off-month,” she reminds me gently, her hand smoothing itself over my braid.

“I know, I was just hoping that if you see him, you could pass along the message. I’m on a tight schedule,” I murmur. “I don’t know how to get a hold of him.”

“Well, I’ll call him. Where can he reach you at?”

“The main office, I’ll be there for a few days before I head back to my sister’s house.”

“I’ll let him know. Thank you for coming to visit, Duo.”

“You’re welcome, my Lady,” I say with a flourished bow, eliciting a giggle from her.

I leave the cottage-style home, my good humour staying behind with her.

_Soon, all the pieces will be in place. I just hope I have enough time._

* * *

The office is covered in a layer of dust, the air stale and dust motes dancing in the sunlit strips that are the only source of light in the room.

It feels like a tomb, and I make sure to conduct my business as quickly as I can.

I pick up the phone, dialing in the number I memorized the first week I started working here. The sound of the phone being answered is short-lived, as Heero’s livid voice sounds over the line.

“Duo Maxwell, where the fuck—”

“Look, I don’t have much time. Please, just listen for a moment.”

Heero goes silent, and I can hear Wufei in the background, closing the door and calling out to Heero.

“We’re listening.”

_We._ Well, that’s great.

“I have a lead. I can’t… I can’t say much, in case things don’t turn out well, but in three days, can you meet me back at the office?”

“Duo, what—”

“Three days!”

I hang up, hearing Heero yelling at me to not do exactly that. I can feel the guilt gnawing at me, but it’s best if I do it this way. It’ll be safer for everyone involved. Scrawling a note on one of the sheets of paper I pull from the printer, I leave it on the desk, weighed down with one of the fancy paperweights Relena’s given me.

“Well, Betty, I’ll see you around,” I tell the plant, brushing my finger over one of the wilting leafs before walking out of the office, leaving it unlocked behind me.

I have three days to get all the pieces in place, and I’m not sure if I’ll be ready.

* * *

“Hey, anyone home?” I call out, closing the door of the shop as I step in. It was a dank, sad-looking place, the smell of dust and parchment heavy on the air, and a crash from the back room answers my question.

“One second! Now where did— aha!”

I snort in amusement, shaking my head slightly. As footsteps come closer, I straighten up and push off from the door, taking a few steps into the ancient-looking bookstore.

“So, what can I— Oh! Duo!”

The girl in front of me hasn’t changed in the ten years since I’ve last seen her. Her dark hair is cut short and spiky around her head, pale skin like the parchment which she worked with, and eyes glittering with an unnatural light.

“Wow, you haven’t aged a day, have you? Fascinating…” she murmurs, stepping closer to grab my face. She turns it side to side, as if she can see anything better from two inches away.

“Hilde, glad to see you too,” I mutter, though the words come out distorted, as her fingers are pressing my lips together oddly.

“Well, what brings your scrawny ass to my bookstore?” she asks me, stepping back and crossing her arms. I rub at my abused skin, eyeing her carefully.

“I need to pull something of mine from the archive.”

The carefree, playful attitude is gone, and in its place is a seriousness only a Guardian can obtain.

“You know the rules, Duo. I can’t allow you to take anything.”

“I don’t intend to keep it. In fact… I would like you to take it back as soon as I finish the entry.”

“Which book?”

“Solo’s.”

We stare each other down, her lips pursing in thought.

“You realize this is a horrible idea, right?”

“Yes, but if it can stop another incident from happening like Solo and I caused, it’s worth the risk.”

“And you are sure it won’t fall into unwanted hands?”

“I’ll bring it back myself personally. It will never leave my sight.”

“I can get in so much trouble for this.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t necessary.”

She sighs, turning around to stride behind the desk. Placing her hand on the surface, she mutters a few words in her native tongue. Dust motes fly towards her palm, spinning around in a vortex before solidifying and dropping to the table with a loud ‘fwump!’, sending more dust flying into the air.

“How soon will you have it back?” she asks me, and I pick up the book carefully, rubbing my thumb over the gold-embossed title.

“Three days, Hilde.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

* * *

It takes most of those three days to clear out enough space to unveil the room that had crumbled in on itself over the years. I have to say I made great time though, carefully shifting rocks and rubble so that I didn’t scratch the stonework beneath my feet. After there is enough space, I press my hands to the floor, letting a sliver of my soul break free and rush through them.

It does the same thing to the floor that I did to Trowa’s chest, except that I’m actively controlling the piece that leaves my body. It cuts through the stone floor in a brilliant purple wave, the ‘blade’ of light carving the image in my head.

The one that I would need, if I wanted to come out of this encounter successful.

“Now, to make you less obvious,” I murmur, starting to move some of the rubble over the more obvious runic marks and designs. That takes up the last day of my three-day-notice, and now all I can do is wait.

The book I took from Hilde - not really a book, but that’s what they always appear as in the mortal plane - is lying open on the rock beside me, a sharp quill resting on the age-worn pages.

I had taken to writing in it while resting, and the book is much larger now than it was before. I find the most fascinating thing about these books is that they never run out of pages. Since they’re not actually books, it makes sense, which is why I can’t use a regular pen on the book.

It needs my blood to make the ink stay on the sheet.

I hear the rumbling of thunder through the thick, stone walls, and there’s a small trickle of rainwater seeping through the ceiling in the far corner of the room. It’s just passing nine in the evening when the crunch of tires on gravel echoes in the basement.

“Showtime,” I tell myself, closing the book and setting it aside. I step to the far side of the room, facing the door with a brilliant smile.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” I hear Quatre asking, and the smile grows larger.

Perfect. That means I won’t have to wait too long.

The flimsy wooden door bursts open, Heero leading the pack into the basement. He pauses at the sight of me, confusion flickering in his eyes as they meet my passive ones.

“What—”

Heero steps aside, letting Wufei step into the room as well. Soon Trowa and Quatre are standing on each side of them, and I can see Cathy’s curly red hair. I also see a shock of blond, which twists my stomach a bit.

Damn, all the pieces came at once. I feel another’s hand involved in this turn of events.

“Wow, we have a full house! Sorry, but it’s standing room only,” I greet, spreading my arms wide. I spin around in place, feeling my long, black trench coat and braid swinging out behind me.

“Duo, what do you think you’re doing. Why did you pick here?” Cathy asks, and I soften my maniacal grin for her.

“I have to finish what he started, Cathy. I need to bring this to an end.”

I squeeze my fist, feeling the sharp quill snap and slice into my skin. Cathy doesn’t have time to shout a warning as my blood drips to the floor, illuminating the carved markings in a brilliant flash of purple. It spreads across the floor rapidly, lapping and rising up the legs of the six people standing over the ritual markings.

“Sorry, I really didn’t want to have to resort to this, but… I had no choice,” I tell them, a rueful grin spreading over my face.

“Duo Maxwell, when the Order hears about this—”

“They won’t have anyone to persecute, Cathy. The Order of the Zodiac holds no power over me.”

“You can’t do this! Didn’t you learn anything from Solo’s mistake?!”

“I did. I learned why I will never let it happen again. And hence,” I spread my arm out, gesturing to all of them, “why we’re all here tonight.”

“Why, Duo?” Cathy asks, her voice breaking. I laugh darkly.

 "Did you think I wouldn’t notice?" I ask, my voice echoing slightly in the dark, damp basement. It was a dual echo, both sounding from my lips and the walls around us, the only other sounds being the harsh breathing of the men caught in the trap.

"Did you think I would ignore you?" I flicker my gaze between them all. Heero, looking back at me determinedly, Wufei with betrayal, Trowa with passive acceptance, and Quatre with bewilderment. Cathy’s eyes are overflowing with tears, and the blank eyes of her husband stare into the distance as if trapped in a memory.

"Did you think that you would get away with it?" A cruel smile flickers across my lips against my will, and I feel my feet moving forward, my body losing control. Power’s coursing through my body, filling my veins and merging the gaps within my broken soul. I have never felt so whole, so complete, and now I know why. I’ve been broken for this purpose, and I will fulfill my reason for existing.

"Did you not realize that Death follows in my footsteps?" I can see the purple glow emanating from my feet in the corner of my eye, leaving behind imprints reflected in the terror-filled eyes in front of me. I lean forward, a hand extending and caressing the sweat-drenched and quivering cheek, my lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

"I can _see_ you, Quatre Winner. And I am _not_ pleased.”

“Shinigami,” Cathy breathes, her eyes widening in recognition. Wufei’s head snaps towards her, eyes widening.

“What?”

“Duo’s possessed by Death…” the soft voice of her husband says, his eyes focused on my glowing form. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, but I keep my attention on the man in front of me.

The fear is gone, the confusion fading away on his face as his blue eyes grow cold.

“So, this is what it takes to have you come to me. If I’d have thought getting you laid would have worked this well, I’d have arranged it sooner.”

I chuckle lowly, tracing my thumb across his cheek.                  

“Oh, silly child, did you think I came to grant your wish? Your darkest desire? To recreate the perversion you bore?”

“I just want her back,” he hisses, his eyee shining in anger. “I want what you stole from me.”

“I stole nothing!” I hiss, bringing my palm sharply across his cheek. Blood smears the white surface, a false flush forming from the impact. “I only took what should have never existed.”

“She was just a baby!”

“A child born of siblings!” I say, my face twisting into a snarl. “An abomination, a creation of consensual incest. I saved that child from the suffering and misery she would endure because of you and your sister’s foolish actions.”

“You ruined us,” Quatre objects. “You ruined my sister, you ruined my baby, and you ruined our future.”

“No, Quatre Winner,” I whisper, wiping away a tear with my bloody thumb. “You ruined them. I merely saved one innocent soul the suffering of two corrupted ones. You have broken the laws of reality, Quatre Winner. And for that, I must set them right.”

I trail my hand up his chest, resting my palm against his heart. A deep purple hue glows between the fabric of his shirt and my skin, and soon it spreads, enveloping the two of us.

“You are mine, Quatre Winner. And I have come to take my payment.”

The scream that’s torn from his throat echoes loudly in the room, but it’s not enough to stop the shattering of his soul, from it seeping to the surface and blasting through the room. It moves through the glowing lines etched on the floor, forming into a mass in the center of the room. The body in my arms slumps down, his eyes vacantly staring into nothing, his breathing shallow and rapid.

“Quatre Winner, you stand before me to be judged for your actions. I find you lacking.”

The power ripping through my throat burns, but the words have an effect in this plane of existence. The room is rippling with the power, the five still trapped in the ritual not harmed as they are enclosed within my power. I raise my hand, pointing two fingers and letting my power build up on the tip.

“I find you lacking. For that, you now belong to me.”

I bring my hand down in a vertical swipe, the power extending through the room to cut into the brilliant white soul of the boy in front of me. He screams, his image wavering before separating into two parts. Those halves break into a shower of sparks, glittery fragments raining to the ground and fading from sight.

“You knew it was wrong, yet you couldn’t help yourself,” I muse, stepping back and glancing at the others. I see Cathy’s weeping form and move to her, ignoring her flinch as I gently rest my hand against her cheek.

“Thank you, Catherine Bloom, for your part in taking care of Duo.”

“You’re welcome, m-my Lord,” she whispers, her voice catching.

I smile brightly, turning eyes to the blond man watching me with disbelief.

“Well, Sinner, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“I— I am sorry, my Lord. I—”

“I used you, Sinner, and I should have thought harder before I did such a thing,” I say with a grin. “I forgot how weak the human soul is. It corrupted you, and you were never able to feel whole again.”

“It—”

“Don’t disappoint me again.”

“Y-yes, my Lord.”

I take a few steps, my hand reaching out to hover over Wufei’s cheek.

“You, you have been an invaluable help. You taught him to trust in another again, to expand and push his boundaries, and to stop hiding from the truth. For your service, I grant you a gift.”

I rub a little blood into his skin, watching it absorb and sink through him into his soul. His eyes widen, and I smile widely.

“I… I can see…”

“Yes, those are the souls of the departed, the ones who cannot move on to the next life. You have a gift, Chang Wufei. Use it to help them come home to me.”

Heero’s gaze fixes with mine, the boldest action any of them have taken with me yet.

“You, you have saved him. You offered him an escape.”

“I had no ulterior motive.”

“And for that, he is forever in your debt.”

Finally, I find myself walking towards Trowa, looking steadily at the ground with dull green eyes.

“My tortured child, for you, I have a request.”

I step forward, embracing the tall, lanky body that I had grown so familiar with, who had looked into my heart and soul. I press my lips to his, languidly and tenderly, before trailing kisses up to his ear.

“Take care of him. You will find forgiveness for harming what is mine. He will need you more than ever.”

The glow from the ritual fades, and I find my eyes closing, my body falling to the ground.

I did it. I succeeded.

* * *

_There’s nothing in this void except the two of us. I stare blankly at Serena, who smiles at me with her gentle smile._

_“You did such a wonderful job, Duo.”_

_“Who are you, really?” I ask, and her smile never wavers._

_“I am you, Duo. I am the part of you that you couldn’t reach, because Death was in the way.”_

_“Does that mean… I’m going to die?”_

_“One day, you will. Everyone dies.”_

_“I… What did I do?”_

_“What was necessary, Duo. Don’t hate yourself for this. Death did not want to hurt you, you are his Beloved child.”_

_“…Are you going to leave me too?” I ask quietly, and her hand caresses my cheek._

_“I could never leave you, I_ am _you._ _”_

_The darkness around us shatters into a brilliant light, her body fading into the white expanse._

* * *

When I open my eyes, all I can see is green. Blinking slowly, unsure of what I’m looking at, I reach up to feel the green.

Well, I try. I’m having a hard time moving though.

I feel like my body’s trapped in a vice.

The green backs up, and I see a familiar face swim into view.

“Trowa?” I say.

Well, I try to say. All that falls from my lips is gibberish, quickly followed by a high-pitched cry of terror.

_What the fuck is going on?!_

“Calm down, Duo,” Trowa whispers, rocking my - way too fucking small - body gently in his arms.

“You look just the same, just smaller,” Trowa explains to me. “Your new body broke out of your old one. I’ll tell you, it was sick as hell. Cathy threw up, and it takes a lot to make her do that.”

I frown, not really understanding.

“Just rest. You’re still tired.”

I close my eyes again, the gentle swaying hard to resist and I slip back into the embrace of sleep.

* * *

“Come on, you’ve done this before,” Trowa encourages, holding out his arms. I shakily take a step forward, trying to hold my balance on two limbs instead of four.

I manage to reach him and he draws me into a hug, his hand ruffling my growing hair.

“Good job! You’ll be running around again before you know it.”

I smile widely, and he returns it gently.

He’s never treated me like a baby, or a toddler. He talks to me, knowing that I can understand him. Which, when I think about it, he does. He can read my thoughts, read my intents, and he knows that when he speaks to me, I can hear him.

He’s been very patient and helpful with helping me relearn how to use my body, a lot more patient than I would have been in his shoes.

* * *

“Duo! How are you doing today?” Cathy greets, picking me up and tossing me in the air. I frown, twisting to try and get out of her hold.

“Cathy, don’t manhandle him. He hates that.”

“Except when it’s you. He fucking adores you.”

“He can understand everything you’re saying. Come here, Duo.”

I run back to Trowa, grasping his leg and glaring at Cathy.

“Well, come on then. The others are in the backyard. I think Wufei and Heero are arguing over who gets to use the grill again.”

“I’ll go intervene.”

I follow closely behind him, eyes taking in the familiar surrounding from a different vantage point. The sound of children laughing is heard as soon as the sliding glass door is opened, and the cries of “Uncle Trowa!” are the only warning given before four children are latching onto his frame.

“Oi, brats, get off him!”

Wufei comes storming up, playfully swinging a spatula at them. They run off shrieking, and Wufei pulls Trowa into a half hug, patting his back.

“I didn’t think you’d be coming.”

“I didn’t think so either. Duo had other plans.”

Wufei’s brows furrow before Trowa steps to the side, his hand reaching out and pulling me forward a little.

The yard goes silent, and I can feel everyone’s eyes on me.

“Trowa, I didn’t know you had a son!” a light, cheerful voice that haunted my dreams exclaims, and I slide behind Trowa’s leg, my hands grasping them tightly.

“He’s afraid of strangers,” Trowa says, not trying to pull me out again.

“Oh, Quatre! I need your help in the kitchen,” Cathy calls out, and the blond passes us to disappear into the house. It’s all the motivation I need to step out onto the lawn and face the eyes watching my every move.

“Your body finally matches your maturity level,” Wufei finally says after another moment, bending down to look at my eye level.

I stare back at him ruefully, my nose curling.

“Have you learned to talk yet?”

“No,” Trowa answers, even as I shake my head. “He’s walking quite well though, and he has a habit of getting up into places he shouldn’t be able to.”

“He’s also made you quite talkative,” Solomon says, slinging an arm over his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “How has parenthood been treating you?”

“I don’t think this counts as parenthood,” Trowa says ruefully.

I snort. No, what we had wasn’t a family at all. Trowa was just watching over me until I could manage it myself. We both know that, but it still hurts to think about too hard.

“So, what’s on the menu?” Trowa asks Wufei, and I find myself trailing after them, partially forgotten. Trowa does helps me up on one of the chairs though, handing me a cup. I still have issues holding it and drinking from it, but fuck if I was going to use one of those ‘sippy’ things. Diapers had been hard enough to accept as a necessity. I think both Trowa and I were happy when I no longer needed them.

The barbeque continues, the laughter and chatter never ceasing. I just sit in my chair, holding my cup and watching everyone else. From the group of children one breaks off and comes running towards the table. He pauses on the way, though, and his bright eyes catch mine.

“Uncle Duo?”

I blink, not having expected Rafael to recognize me. But he did, a smile widening on his face.

“Oh wow! You’re smaller than me now!”

I frown, dragging my legs up the chair and curling into myself a little.

“Hey, I don’t care how big or little you are. I still like you.”

“Rafael, leave your uncle alone,” Cathy scolds, setting a pasta salad on the plastic table.

Trowa cuts up some food for me into bite sized pieces, and I quietly eat my food.

“But he looks lonely, and I want to play with him. I beat him wrestling before, when he was still big.”

“I remember that,” Wufei adds in, giving me a smirk. “He had you half-buried in the wood pile and was trying to yank your hair out.

“Fuck off,” I mutter, my voice high-pitched and childish. The table goes silent, but it’s broken not long after by Trowa’s deep, rich laughter.

As he’s helping me into bed that night, I let my touch linger on his hand, hoping he can see how happy today made me.

“We’ll have to go again, won’t we?”

I nod, snuggling under the covers and closing my eyes.

Maybe this is my second chance, too.

* * *

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Trowa asks, hesitating at the entrance. I nod, reaching up and grabbing his hand. He pauses, tilting his head to the side, and then shakes it once.

“You and that plant, I swear. I should be jealous.”

He opens the door to the office, the inside looking very different from when I had last set foot in it ten years ago.

The two sofas have been replaced with leather loveseats, the carpet is now a dark brown instead of tan, and the walls a lighter shade of brown compared to the stark white it used to be.

But what hasn’t changed is more surprising.

“Betty,” I whisper, rushing over to pet the plant. Trowa chuckles, handing me a bottled water I brought just for her. The door to Wufei’s office opens, and he sticks his head out.

“We’re not ope— Oh, it’s you two. Well, shut the door before someone gets the idea we’re accepting clients.”

“You’re getting cranky in your old age, Wu-wu,” I tease, throwing the bottle into the trash bin next to my desk. The computer on it’s gone, but there’s still plenty of papers, files, and the picture Howard managed to scrounge up for me all those years ago.

“You’re getting more obnoxious the longer you’re able to speak,” he retorts, but his words hold no heat.

It’s familiar, and comfortable, and the smile on my face is the first real one I’ve shown since I was ‘born’ again.

The glass cabinet that holds the pictures, certificates, and knickknacks is still up against the wall between Heero and Wufei’s offices, and I wander over to see what inside of it has changed too.

There, in the middle of their certificates, is the one Heero had made for me.

It still has my ‘editing’ on it.

“You never quit,” Heero says from behind me. “So I figured it would be rude to remove you from the staff.”

“What, a very long medical leave?”

“That’s what the records say. You’ll always have a job here.”

“If you do decide to turn it down, though,” Wufei says, “give us a cipher for your filing system with your resignation. It’s been ten years and I still can’t find shit.”

* * *

I stare in the mirror, not understanding the face staring back at me.

Before, I was stuck as a fifteen-year-old, never aging a day no matter how many years passed by. I was twenty-nine when I wound up as an infant again, and now it’s been another seventeen.

It’s scary, to watch myself get older.

Trowa’s knocking on the door to the bathroom, his voice giving away his concern. I’ve been in here for twenty minutes, just staring at the mirror as if it could share all my secrets.

Finally the door is opened, a set of lock picks in his hand, and he pauses as he catches sight of my face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m… older.”

“You’ve been getting that way for years.”

“I’ve… I’ve never aged past fifteen before. I look different now…”

Trowa wraps his arms around me, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder.

“Different doesn’t mean it has to be bad.”

* * *

“I’m—!”

My words are cut off as Trowa leans up, pressing his lips into mine, his hand grasping me firmly as he thrusts into me erratically, pushing me over the edge. I dig my hands into his hips, my back arching as I feel my release splatter across my stomach, Trowa pushing into me and reaching his peak as well.

Panting, I reach up with a shaky hand to push Trowa’s sweaty bangs aside, letting me see both of those passion-filled green eyes.

“That was… really… good…” I pant, pulling him down into another kiss. He chuckles, resting his head on my shoulder as he catches his breath.

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Well, our first time _was_ right here. Figured why not the second-first time?”

“You realize Heero’s going to kill us.”

“Nah, he’ll never know.”

“Except he has cameras installed in here now.”

“…Well, shit. Want to go to Jamaica for a while?”

“No, I have better plans.”

* * *

I never thought that his death would hurt me. But as they lowered his coffin into the ground, I couldn’t help but feel the loss deep within. Even though the piece of soul I rescued from him no longer resided there, I think he still had a part of him inside of me.

I rested my hand on his gravestone, a dim white light carving a symbol on the back.

This was the grave of the greatest Necromancer to ever live; it deserved to be known to the world.

* * *

Hilde scratched a few words into the last page of the book before closing it with a gentle reverence. Duo had kept his word, the book returning on the counter of her shop three days after he had left with it. The words he had written were startling, but enough to not make her regret the decision.

All of Solo’s knowledge, research, and results had been penned by Duo’s hand, and she knew that this was the last source of knowledge for them. When Duo passed on from the mortal world, he would take that knowledge with it, only the archive ever holding a record of the evils the two had committed in the name of power.

It was redemption, in its purest form.

The remaining pages had been filled with the events following that dark day, where Solo Maxwell became Solomon Bloom, moving on from that disaster to fall in love, have children, and live a full life. It was a happier tale that Hilde had taken pleasure in writing, as it was a tale befitting a broken man.

Even Hilde, the deity of Fate, hadn’t been able to stop him.

Only Death could… and he had.

* * *

**Winner Case Files: Closed (CLASSIFIED)**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it. That’s the end. No mas. Oh my god, don’t kill me. Please. Don’t. I’m delicate.
> 
> I’ll probably end up doing some oneshots based off WCF, but as for the story of Duo… it’s over. This last chapter was particularly hard to write, and I feel as if Duo broke my soul along with it.
> 
> A big thanks to Ro, for always kicking my ass into shape and motivating me to keep going.
> 
> Also a big thanks to Haytang, who I’m putting out a restraining order on so she doesn’t murder me in my sleep (not that it’ll help, but it’s all about peace of mind). Thanks for being such an awesome fan :D
> 
> Thanks to the Regs, who’s reviews kept me motivated to keep writing and not abandon the plot.
> 
> And thanks to my 2x3 Club. You guys rock! All three of you! (there is not enough 2x3 love in the world…)
> 
> So once again, please don’t kill me…


End file.
